


Sweet and Dirty Things

by Phoenicia, snarkyscorp



Series: A Person Just For Me [2]
Category: Free!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future Fish, Alternate Universe - Never Met, Chef Nanase Haruka, Firefighter Tachibana Makoto, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-30
Updated: 2016-06-30
Packaged: 2018-04-06 21:16:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 30,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4236900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoenicia/pseuds/Phoenicia, https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarkyscorp/pseuds/snarkyscorp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Now that each of them found a person to keep just for themselves, Makoto and Haruka make up for lost time with dates, desserts, and dirty things.</p>
<p>The clock turns, the cast expands, there are storms to be weathered, experiences to be had, lessons to be learned...because falling in love is only the beginning of their journey.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> We're back with more, this AU really got its hooks in us and refuses to let go. Really glad to have any and everyone along for the ride and thanks for the support. Falling in love is just the beginning for the chef and the fireman.
> 
> Both of us were frantically trying to think of something we could do for Haru's birthday, and we realized we had enough of this already written to kick off the next phase in this universe. Be sure to join us in wishing our favorite mackerel-loving dolphin boy a happy birthday (and plenty of Makoto). (*^ω^*) (*^ω^*) (*^ω^*)

_"The course of true love...." "...gathers no moss."_

_\--"The Philadelphia Story"_

 

* * *

 

Haruka shut the back hatch of his car, lugging two bags and a paper-wrapped package of fish towards the house. The clothesline was empty and the hamper inside was full; his complete immersion in confessing to Makoto sort of derailed his normal routines. He yanked open the back door, toeing off his shoes, and padded down the hall to the kitchen to put the groceries away. The dessert plates were still in the sink, Haruka realized with a fond smile; time to spend a little time neatening up his space. He was having company for dinner.

He hung the last of the laundry on the line about an hour later, fondly stroking one hand over the damp fish-print boxers. They had been a gag gift from Rin on his twentieth birthday, the package arriving covered in all kinds of Australian stamps. _You may be officially a man now, Haruka, but you'll always be a fish to me_ , the card had said.

Rin...really had saved him with Makoto. Without Rin, Haruka wouldn't have had the first clue how to apologize, how to say everything inside him in words Makoto could understand. Rin's patience and help finally melted the last of Haruka's resentment over Rin (and Yamazaki) leaving and leaving him behind.

He should call him, especially after rejecting his call before, but not on the phone. Too impersonal, too much room for misinterpreted silence; Rin did better seeing him. Face Time it is, then; Haruka picked up the empty laundry basket and went inside to get his iPad. He had at least an hour before he needed to start dinner.

For Makoto. Giddy warmth bubbled up in Haruka's chest and he wanted to just _luxuriate_ in the feeling. Love was...turning out to be weird and not at all how he expected, but he liked it.

The iPad was on the shelf closest to the altar and Haruka set it up on the kotatsu, flicking the stand out so he didn't have to hold it. He turned his phone back on to send a quick **_'Face Timing you'_** text before initiating the connection.

Rin's toothy face filled the iPad's screen. "About fucking time, Haruka!" His merciless grin got even sharper with challenge. "Were you getting some, future fish?"

He shook his head before remembering it was best not to dignify those questions with a response. "It worked, just like you said it would. Somehow, I managed to say everything." Haruka swallowed, looking off to one side, throat choked with what he needed to say, what he'd needed to say for years. "Thanks, Rin." Pause. "You're officially forgiven for going to Australia."

"Ehhhhh?" the redhead sputtered, flailing away from the camera. "W-Who said I did any of this for your stupid forgiveness?" He rubbed the back of his neck, flushing slightly, huffing his bangs off his forehead. "You just never ask me for anything, especially not help. I...if I could have been there, I would have. You know that, right?" He leaned closer, crimson eyes honest and serious.

"I do now...Jaws." The smallest of smiles quirked Haruka's mouth and Rin erupted in an answering grin. For the first time in a long time, Haruka really believed everything was all right between them. "There's not a...." He cut off abruptly, eyes narrowing in distaste. "Rin, someone's flopping dick just walked behind you."

"Hello to you, too, Nanase." Sousuke - moist from the shower, buck naked and utterly unashamed - continued his path towards the kitchen he and Rin shared.

"Yamazaki." Haruka's reply was flat. "I didn't need to know you still shave everywhere."

"Can't be world class without complete manscaping." He came back into the frame, orange juice carton in his hand. He drank straight from it without care, taking a seat on the sofa next to Rin (with his junk thankfully out of Haruka's view). "You should try it sometime."

"Too much effort." They all knew Haruka meant more than just shaving.

"Whatever." Sousuke knocked back another slug of orange juice. "Did everything go okay?" When Haruka nodded, his arrogant face relaxed into a true smile. "Glad it worked out for you."

Haruka shrugged but didn't look away, silent acceptance of Yamazaki's congratulations. The two of them never talked much on their own, Rin being the glue that forced them to interact, but if push came to shove they had each other's backs. Reluctantly, sometimes resentfully, but nevertheless. "So, I went to the firehouse and...."

By the time Haruka finished, Rin wept messy tears against Sousuke's shoulder, Sousuke had crumpled the top of the orange juice carton with his grip, and it was like they'd never left, like different goals and competitive swimming and a huge ocean had never come between them. Yamazaki was always Rin's first and foremost, but in the water the three of them had been unbeatable and indivisible. Somewhere along the way, Haruka knew he'd forgotten just how good it had been and closed himself off so it wouldn't hurt as much to be without them.

_Makoto opens my heart_. Maybe Makoto had opened it to more than just himself.

 

It was one of the longest days Makoto had ever experienced in his life. Not just at work but ever. He remembered the day he'd waited to get his results from his career exam. That had been a very long, anxiety-filled day. And when the twins were born certainly qualified as _painfully_ long, pacing in the waiting room with his father until the doctor announced everyone was healthy. The summer before he began work had been full of long days spent awaiting a new chapter in his life, the moment he felt he would embark on something truly great. But the last few hours of his shift after leaving Haruka was longer than any of those days combined.

Makoto wasn't the type of guy who looked at his phone or checked the time when he was with others, but today, it couldn't be avoided. He just... He was still floored from Haruka's confession, and…

No. No, it was _Haru_ now. _Haru._ The name that was just for him.

"Looking at the time only makes it go by that much slower," Rei said, smiling fondly from his place on the chair across from Makoto.

"It can't be helped," Makoto murmured, without thinking. "I miss him."

Rei's smile brightened, even though he pushed his glasses up at the same time, seemingly embarrassed for Makoto's honesty. Makoto would have apologized, if he could have taken his eyes off his phone, that was.

* * *

Despite how long the day felt, Makoto's shift finally did come to an end. He was the first one out of the station once he'd changed (and since he was usually the first to arrive and last to leave and they’d all witnessed Haru’s confession to him earlier, no one complained). He walked much, much faster than he normally would have. It was cool outside, though the wind was calm. The scent of the ocean just reminded Makoto of everything he now had to lose, but in a new, wonderful way. He was full to the brim with happiness for what he had, what Haru had given him today. Something he'd never had before: a person just for him.

It was closer to half past eight when Makoto knocked at Haru's door. Even though he'd been granted permission to enter without worry, he still waited for Haru to answer. When he did, Makoto's heart nearly jumped from his chest.

Before him stood the same man he'd fallen in love with, the same man who'd confessed to him only several hours earlier, the same man who'd made him a Christmas cake and kissed him, who held his hand and swam more beautifully than Makoto imagined mermaids could. That man, that same beautiful man, was currently in a blue apron with a fish pattern, his face warmed most likely from the heat of the stove, and his blue eyes glittering like the sea.

Makoto's smile blossomed, slowly at first and then breaking over his face in a wave.

"Hello, Haru. May I come in?"

 

Makoto spoke his name, his _private_ name, and Haruka felt himself light up and turn weightless, corners of his mouth making a subtle rise. "Please, it's cold." Haruka waved Makoto inside, sliding the door closed behind him. Makoto had changed clothes after work, a brown double-breasted coat over his dark green sweater, dark pants and a striped scarf. Haruka was glad he'd changed as well, loose grey sweater and tan pants replacing his kitchen attire.

He helped Makoto out of his coat and hung it up, hands lingering just a moment on the expanse of revealed shoulders. "Dinner's not very fancy, but you said you liked my saba." He stood on tiptoe, kissing the back of Makoto's neck twice and greedily inhaling his clean scent. Before the things racing through his mind could turn to action, Haruka patted his hands against Makoto's back, reluctantly stepping around him out of the entry. "Come get warm," he encouraged, taking down the slippers he'd begun designating as Makoto's in his mind.

Dinner had already been set on the kotatsu, two plates of saba shioyaki with both grilled and pickled vegetables. Rice bowls were full, chopsticks sat on the rests, a full pot of tea produced a curl of steam from its spout. Two sliced apples, each in a small dish, also joined the tableau. Haruka's iPad sat in the speaker dock, cello music filling the room. "I wasn't sure what kind of music you liked, you can change it if you want." He couldn't quite still the nervous excitement frothing under his skin, the thrill of seeing Makoto again with the realization of just what happened today, and he defaulted back to a lot of _doing_ rather than talking. He felt a little like he'd used up a week's worth of words in just one day.

He disappeared into the small kitchen after Makoto got settled, returning a moment later with a hot, damp towel. While it was more of a restaurant or airplane custom, this way Makoto didn't have to get up to wash and could still warm up at the kotatsu after his walk from work. Haruka took the used towel back into the kitchen, washed, folded his apron, and came back with salt and seasonings. He tucked himself under the kotatsu futon to Makoto's right, sighing as the warmth hit his legs and lap.

"How was work?" At least that's what Haruka meant to say, but what actually came out of his mouth was "I missed you." Saucer-sized eyes blinked at Makoto and he abruptly turned the other way, embarrassed and annoyed.

 

It was very unusual, to go somewhere after work that wasn't straight home to dinner with his family, but somehow it didn't _feel_ unusual at all. It felt like they'd done this before. Like it would be the most natural thing to come home to Haru instead, a thought Makoto buried deep for the time being, to keep to himself for reflection later. Haru had confessed his feelings not even half a day ago; there was no need to rush anything or scare Haru away.

Still, the kisses to the back of his neck raised the fine hairs there in a prickle, and Haru's voice sang straight through to his soul.

"Thank you," he murmured, rubbing his hands for a moment to give himself something to do with them other than grab Haru's waist and keep him back in the entry. Instead, he worked off his sneakers and toed into the slippers Haru set out for him, smiling as he took a seat around the kotatsu, cleaned his hands with the provided towel and laughed warmly when Haru finally sat down beside him.

"You don't consider these fancy?" he asked, gesturing to the small apple slices in the bowl, each of which had some of the skin raised and split so the food resembled bunnies huddled together. But before he could ask anything else, Haru said the very thing he'd been thinking all day. Makoto watched him turn away in embarrassment, and he wondered if Haru had ever said those words or said _anything_ so honest before to someone else. He seemed like the type of man who was very private with his emotions, and for that, Makoto considered himself especially lucky to have not only the large confession earlier but this little one too.

Reaching for Haru's hand, he found it and gave it an affectionate squeeze. "I missed you too, you know. Very, very much." His smile softened, and he gently let go of Haru's fingers.

" _Itadakimasu_ ," he hummed, before reaching for the tea to serve each of them. "This all looks fantastic." He couldn't resist once he was done with the tea to pick up his chopsticks and admire the handiwork in the bunny apples. "Ah, cute! Please teach me how to make these sometime. They're so delicate." And once he had rice and saba on his plate, along with vegetables, Makoto tore into it pretty quickly. Not simply because he was hungry but because Haru had made it for him. And one of his favorites, too. "Delicious!"

 

This. This was exactly why Haruka WROTE THINGS DOWN. The wrong words just loved to come out in the most awkward of ways at the most inconvenient of times. And everything was going so well.

So well that Makoto's hand wrapped around his, reaching down into his fortress of sulkitude and startling him straight out of humiliation. "I....yeah," he managed, turning back to Makoto and flexing his now-empty hand into and out of a fist. Makoto was so _beautiful,_ the way his voice dipped almost to a whisper with reassurance, the way the heat of his hand seemed to linger on Haruka's fingertips _._ "Sorry, I'm still getting used to the whole talking thing again. What I meant to say was how was work? They didn't give you a hard time because of me?"

He quietly spoke the ritual blessing, glad to have something to do with his hands again. Haruka started in on the saba, separating pieces to eat with his chopsticks. "They aren't that hard, just requires a bit of dexterity with a knife. I'll show you and you can make them for your family." And maybe tuck them into bento at some point for Makoto.

It still warmed him through and through that Makoto liked his food, that he had liked it before they'd even met. "My mother was right, this is what I make most of the time. In high school, I cooked it every day for breakfast. My parents weren't home a lot, so I've had plenty of practice." That coaxed the wry smile out of hiding, content to linger as Haruka kept eating.

 

"Well, they gave me a hard time, but it wasn't all that bad," Makoto said, almost too quietly. He took a bite of the vegetable with some saba, smiling around the burst of flavor that accompanied it. Haru really was very talented, and Makoto would never tire of letting him know it. "And they were all very appreciative of the food, so they were probably gentle, now that I think about it." Imagine what it would have been if they hadn't been fed, more like.

"You made saba every day...for breakfast?" It wasn't all that unusual to have it for breakfast, but every day? He would have thought anyone else was exaggerating, but this was Haruka, and so Makoto believed him outright. The man who was always in his bath and wore his jammers under his clothes most certainly ate saba every morning for breakfast.

The apple slices were eaten with reverence - it was almost horrifying to bite into them, but the taste was fresh and crisp and worth the gore - and the tea enjoyed in silence.

Makoto knew things would be different now, after the confession, but he found himself oddly at ease in the moment. This was dinner, with a good friend and now that good friend meant even more to him. And though he could feel Haru's awkwardness, that only made him want to be stronger. He would make sure this went well, and from here, they could both be at ease in the future.

"I talked to the owner of the Swim Club," Makoto said, after he'd eaten a good portion of his dinner. "They'll be holding a small event for the town at the end of next month and asked me to participate if I can. I thought maybe you might want to join me? It's all children, most of them under ten, so there won't be any pressure. And if you don't want to, I hope you'll at least stop by and support the Club." _And see me_  was a silent addition.

 

He hadn't picked the best place, Haruka knew that. Confessing in public at Makoto's workplace had been a bold move - a Rin move. But he hadn't wanted to wait once he had everything ready, hadn't wanted to keep Makoto waiting. "I'll send more food; that was sort of an overdue 'thanks for helping me not die' anyways." Haruka poured more tea before adding honey to his; he didn't like the sweet flavor, but the doctor recommended it to help soothe his throat now that he was talking.

He nodded, picking up his rice bowl. "I didn't deal well with change then - still don't, but I'm more aware of it now - so doing the same thing was important." He flicked several bites of rice into his mouth with the chopsticks, chewing thoughtfully. "Rin started calling me 'fish'," Haruka enunciated the word in English, "and the more he teased the more I dug in my heels about it." Maybe it was finally letting go about Rin leaving, but his attitude then seemed silly now. Maybe it was the sense of contentment Makoto brought him. And maybe...it was not being alone.

Haruka crunched his way through his bunny apples, merciless and uncaring about biting their heads off. Makoto really seemed to like them, and the warmth of that knowledge soothed away any leftover embarrassment. He'd have to try it when Asian pears came in season; their skin had a bit of a different texture but with practice Haruka knew he could make it work.

"Okay, I'd like that." Part of Haruka wanted to go back to the club so the freshest memory for them would no longer be him running scared. "I haven't been around kids much, but if you're there I'll be fine." He also needed to thank the owner for letting them use the pool - and hopefully use it again in the future. "It's for the town, and Iwatobi is my home now." He blinked, a bit surprised at the words but unwilling to take them back. He'd come to deal with the legalities of his grandmother's estate and the house, not really planning to stay, but so many things here suited Haruka much better than Osaka had...not the least of which was Makoto.

Yo-Yo Ma's rendition of Vivaldi's Concerto in B-flat Major flowed through the room, the Largo second movement hypnotic. "Are you ready for cake?" Haruka asked, taking another page from Rin's book and skimming his foot against Makoto's beneath the kotatsu.

 

_Iwatobi is my home now_. That's what Haru said. Makoto's smile brightened as he realized that maybe he had a small hand in Haruka's newfound admiration for the small fishing town. He at least liked to think now that Haru had ties to it, he might not be in any hurry to leave. Even though he'd never mentioned it, Makoto had never been sure if Haru would stay there or simply come to town every now and then to check on his grandmother's house. It was comforting to know he was trying to make it into a true home.

"Cake would be wonderful, thank you," Makoto said cheerfully. He'd eaten rather quickly, not for any rush to be done with dinner but because it was so good. As it was, the only thing that remained was one of the bunny apples. He gingerly cradled it between his chopsticks, smiling at the perfectly curled ears, and then carefully bit into it to enjoy the sweet flavor and the little kick of tart when he swallowed.

Makoto's face blossomed with a little color when Haruka's foot brushed his own, but the smile never wavered. Quietly, he shifted, sliding his own foot against Haru's in turn. He couldn't help leaning in towards him a bit as he set his chopsticks on the holder, and then he just leaned in further, placing a warm hand on Haru's knee for balance so he could steal a lingering kiss. His lips were a little chapped from the wind, but Haru didn't seem to mind.

 

Makoto hit a ticklish spot in the arch of his foot and Haruka managed not to flinch away, curling his foot to make a new stroke against Makoto's. That wasn't a card he wanted to show yet, how being touched in the right places made him squirm and laugh helplessly. It was such an out-of-control feeling, not something Haruka wanted to court after the dizzying experiences of the past few days.

Sly and clever and growing in confidence, Makoto kidnapped his breath with a surge of soft lips, exploring breeze-gentle across the curve of Haruka's mouth. He returned the kiss, the bare tip of his tongue flicking between his lips and a small, deep noise of approval in his throat. "Makoto..." Haruka's voice was almost a purr, his hand covering Makoto's on his knee and flexing in cat-content repetition. Saying Makoto's name fascinated him from the moment he learned it, the three syllables a mantra binding them together.

Haruka angled his head back to get more leverage from underneath and drew Makoto into a deeper kiss, his free hand sinking possessively into the wealth of Makoto's hair. Cake could wait just a moment while they finished this dessert course, sweeter than even the chocolate creation in the fridge. Haruka's lips parted fully, inviting Makoto inside with a swirl of tongue. _Come taste_ , the kiss whispered. _Come devour._

It was easy enough to feel brave with Haru going so out of his way to make Makoto comfortable. Cooking him lunch, dinner, dessert, shaping the apple skins to make the food cuter because he somehow knew Makoto would like it. All for Makoto. And didn't that confession earlier need to be rewarded? Makoto had thought about it the entire time he'd worked his shift at the station, how perfectly Haruka's lips fit against his own and how he almost wished he hadn't chosen lunch so they could have explored one another for the entire hour.

Still, there was something about absence making the heart grow fonder, about easing into this new aspect of their relationship, and that really rang true for the two of them. It seemed like the last few hours of work were weeks, and the three days before then months. Now that he had Haru alone, all to himself, there was no reason to be meek, he supposed.

With Haru's mouth open in invitation, Makoto sank his tongue into it with a warm sound, twisting his body a little to get the best angle possible. His free hand lifted to rake over the bare skin at Haru's throat, to cup him close. Haru was softer than he'd anticipated, or maybe his imagination simply didn't do the other man justice. He smelled good too, up close, and the taste of him wasn't tempered by the saba or seasonings.

"I'm sorry," he murmured. "I couldn't wait until after dessert to kiss you again." His lips curved against Haruka's into a smile as he mouthed his way along Haru's jaw with reverence.

 

Haruka's narrow fingers clenched tighter in Makoto's hair, his mouth eagerly welcoming him, his pulse a frantic beat in his throat. Kissing Makoto caught him up in wanting so, _so_ many things. Sweet things. _Dirty_ things. Sweet and dirty things that could occupy them for days on end without interruption. The loose sweater he wore slid just enough to expose a pale shoulder and a deep-hollowed collarbone, while his hand gripped the one on his knee.

"Who," the roughened timbre of Haruka's voice was positively _abrasive_ , a cat's-tongue licking Makoto's senses, "asked you to wait?"

 

There was a slight hesitation in Makoto's fluid movements when Haru asked that. Did...Haru want... _more_? And if so, how much more? Was it okay to touch him? To kiss every inch of skin that was already exposed? To perhaps slide his hand under Haruka's sweater to feel the warmth of his muscles, the breath fill his lungs?

It was a little terrifying suddenly, because Makoto realized, he didn't actually want to wait for permission. Or stop.

"You don't mind?" he murmured, pulling back to look in Haru's eyes. The roughened pads on his fingers rubbed along Haruka's throat in a soothing line up and down along his jugular. He could feel the blood coursing through, the throb of Haru's pulse quick and unsteady, like a rabbit cornered by a wolf. It was heady, knowing he was the cause of that. "Because now that we've got all evening, I want to kiss you as much as I can." Leaning in, he sought Haru's mouth again, tongue eagerly sinking into it, sliding against Haru’s, along his teeth, exploring every crevice and angle he could.

 

Haruka's eyelids dropped to half-mast and he gave a small negating shake of his head. He didn't mind at all, especially since Makoto continued to read his silent communication. While Haruka was blunt enough to speak directly, putting things like 'I want you to kiss my neck, it makes me shiver every time you touch it and the heat of your mouth would turn me on so much' into spoken words seemed impossible with Makoto's fingers running up and down the column of his throat, stroking his pulse. Makoto's green eyes, gemstone-pure, held a soft uncertainty belied by his restless hand and a building frenzy underneath. The frenzy called to him, spoke Haruka's shortened name, and it was that which Haruka wished to see, to seduce, to claim as his. _Then do just that. I want you to kiss me everywhere...Makoto._

He sighed with delight, abandoning Makoto's hand on his knee to anchor himself, hand curving under Makoto's arm to grip his shoulder while his mouth welcomed him anew. Makoto was _delicious_ , tongue feeding him fire as it searched the inside of Haruka's mouth. His fingertips dug deeper into Makoto's sweater and Haruka curled his tongue around Makoto's with a playfulness that surprised even him. He'd kissed other people, primarily girls, and while those had been enjoyable, even arousing, they'd never been...fun. Makoto made him want to play, to flirt, to do all those things Rin had trumpeted as romantic (and Haruka had dismissed as useless and irritating). He wanted to touch Makoto, to slide his hand against the front of his dark pants and feel hard heat rise to meet him. To curl his hand lower and stroke round heaviness that would fill his entire palm. To kiss until he was out of breath and gasping and had to lie in a heaving heap with Makoto's heartbeat a metronome under his cheek until his healing lungs could fill again.

"Out...from under," Haruka thrummed against Makoto's lips. He didn't want them to knock the kotatsu over in trying to reach closer to one another. The sliding storage nearest the kotatsu was where he kept the extra futon bedding; it would be much nicer to kiss while sprawled on one.

 

It was true; Makoto's knee was already bumped under the kotatsu, and if he shifted any further, he might wind up toppling it and the plates and bowls and tea set in his clumsy haste to get the best angle of Haru's mouth. So he nodded, pulling back as he slid his legs out from under the kotatsu and knelt beside it. He wasn't overly familiar with Haruka's home and where he kept his futons, but his mind wasn't even there yet. All he could think was that he didn’t want to stop kissing Haru, and with the kotatsu out of the equation, there was plenty of space to get to him more easily.

As soon as they were clear of the kotatsu, Makoto's impatience won out and he hauled Haru closer again. They were still on their knees as Makoto took the cinch of Haru's waist and cradled his skull, lips moving swiftly to kiss the breath from him.

 

Makoto in a hurried frenzy sent need spiderwebbing through Haruka's nerve endings, all of them shrieking in chorus to _touch_ and _feel_ and _consume_. His hand stretched towards the closet to procure a futon, flailing back to clutch Makoto's shoulder for balance when he grabbed Haruka, claiming his mouth in a hungry kiss. _Greedy, impatient Makoto..._ floated like soap bubbles through Haruka's brain, lasting no longer than it took for them to pop as Makoto's hand curved against the back of his head, his rough palm nuzzling the fine hairs below Haruka's hairline and startling all other thoughts from his mind but _More_.

Haruka edged forward, slipping one hand down to Makoto's knees. "Down," his voice was a heady drawl as he parted the kiss with a tiny nip. "Fold." He nudged until Makoto crossed his legs and sat on the tatami, then Haruka slid a leg on either side of him, backside wiggling to rest in Makoto's newly created lap. Heat pooled in his groin, everything turning hot and firm below his waist as he nestled in, calves tight against Makoto's hips. "More," he demanded, tongue licking a catlike path up the faint stubble on Makoto's chin to his mouth.

 

The commands were like something you'd tell a dog, but just like a well-behaved pet, Makoto did as he was told. In truth, he was more than happy to comply with whatever Haru needed if that meant they didn't have to stop kissing. Makoto would have contorted his body in any way necessary. Luckily, it didn't require more than folding his legs into a comfortable position, and when Haru climbed into his lap like that, Makoto knew they weren't going to make it to dessert.

Not the cake, anyway.

Flushed, he sucked Haruka's tongue in when it invaded his lips, tasting the full thickness of it in his mouth and swallowing around the flavor that was Haru and nothing else. Barely able to breathe, Makoto found the smallest part of Haru's waist with the hand that wasn't cradled at the base of his skull, desperately trying to keep his hands from wandering...but it was useless. It was only a matter of minutes before his broad palm was under Haru's loose sweater, raking along bare skin and greedily touching whatever he could reach, realizing how much he'd wanted to touch Haru like this since the evening at the Swim Club.

Impatient and sort of clumsy in his haste, Makoto grazed higher than he'd meant to go, thumb accidentally (maybe) brushing over one of Haru's nipples.

Green eyes peeked open, glittering as he watched Haru return his kiss.

_Beautiful_.

 

_So, so good._ He was in Makoto's lap and they were kissing, desperate and wet, every sense filled to the brim with _Makoto._ Haruka moaned, high in his throat, seeking more of Makoto's hand against his skin, Makoto's hand where it belonged: _on him_. Makoto really wasn't _that_ much taller than Haruka, ten centimeters at the most, but curled here, his bottom in the cradle of Makoto's lap, Makoto's hand spanning his back beneath his sweater, he genuinely felt _small_ with his slighter - albeit muscular - build. Makoto was powerful, his thighs and calves a heavy weight as they supported Haruka, his arms filled with corded strength, and his mouth - his mouth a veritable oasis, feeding him life and breath and delicious, moist heat. Haruka's hands clutched the front of Makoto's sweater, remembering just how broad he was underneath it, how tanned despite the winter weather.

Makoto's hand slid around Haruka's waist, climbing up his ribs. Haruka muffled the sound that threatened to break the kiss into an awkward burble, not willing to let himself laugh even if tickled in passing; he relaxed just a bit when Makoto's hand skimmed over his abs, they weren't nearly as ticklish as the ribs, and these touches, the way Makoto's fingers explored the shape and curve of his muscles, tickled in a much more intimate way. The more Makoto touched, the more frenzied their kissing became, pushing and pushing back with teeth and tongue, making desperate imitation of their fumbling hands. Haruka's left hand held fast to the sweater, but the right traveled down in a coy slide from chest to waist and just below.

Callused thumb met sensitive skin and Haruka gasped out a throaty sound of surprise. His nipple perked to attention from the contact, a round little bud that nudged against Makoto's blunt thumb for another touch. He nipped at Makoto's lower lip a second time, a silent entreaty to touch again, and he trailed his tongue where his teeth had just marked, the swell of that lip a sensuous treat.

Somehow aware he was being watched, Haruka edged back a whisper from the kiss, heavy-lidded eyes almost drunk with Makoto, thin slivers of blue all that was visible when he met his gaze. Wet lips rolled in over his teeth, parting again in a contented, needy sound. "Like what you see?" he asked, a pink flush climbing its way out of the sweater's wide vee neck to dot his chest and neck and exposed shoulder. His hand crept further south, daring to stroke feather-light fingers down the front of Makoto's pants. "What you feel?"

 

Every touch was electric, the current sizzling under Makoto's clothes, willing his skin to warm and turn pink and red in blotches of both embarrassment and arousal. And maybe embarrassment at being so aroused so quickly, but he couldn't exactly help himself. Not with the noises Haru made and the roll of his hips against his lap and that dangerously exploring hand, which wound up over the front of his fly, where the fabric was taut against his growing erection.

The frenzy reached its peak, and Makoto groaned. "Yes," he said, breathless and hoarse and overwhelmed as he flicked his thumb right back over the perk of Haru's nipple. It was undeniably satisfying, feeling Haru respond so eagerly to him, and after three days without any contact at all, Makoto felt desperate, like a wild animal loosed from its cage. If he could just hold onto Haru for a little while longer, Makoto would never let him go again. He would touch every inch of Haruka's body to memorize it, would kiss his lips to bruising to have the feel ingrained on his own lips forever, would leave imprints of his hands so he could fit them right back into the grooves over and over and over again.

" _Yes_ ," he repeated, almost dumbly, suddenly the one of them without the ability to speak. His hips shifted beneath Haru's hand, and his eyelids lowered a bit in drowsy ecstasy. Though Makoto had kissed a few people before, one of them a guy, this was so different. It was explosive. Like if they stopped, Makoto's heart might stop too. So he darted in for another kiss and mouthed his way over Haruka's jaw again, down to his neck. He'd never forget the noises Haru made when his tongue and teeth found that sensitive splash of skin, so he dragged his lips along the spot, down to where Haru's sweater sagged so he could reach his collarbone.

 

Haruka clenched his teeth against a throaty whimper, Makoto's thumb kissing his nipple again. His legs gripped tighter against Makoto's hips, bottom grinding against Makoto's calves. So much to touch and feel and be felt, all building in a crackling storm. His hand grazed Makoto's fly, whispering against the hardness just inside the cotton placket, a gift that he wanted to tear open and hold in his hands. His thumb poked at the button, clumsily manipulating it through the hole until the top parted. The length of his fingers petted once more before attempting to guide the zipper down one-handed. He knew his own body well enough to recognize the beginning speck of damp greeting his finger through the soft knit boxer briefs. He teased there, letting his thumb drop to make lazy up and down strokes, enjoying the sleepy burn in Makoto's eyes as he touched him, soft and possessive. Some primal instinct wanted to mark Makoto from head to toe in the scent of his own skin.

Makoto's lips - wet as his own, hungry - slid a path from his mouth to his jaw to his neck, marking each bit with breadcrumbs made of kisses until he hit the goal. "Ma-ah-koto!" Haruka's hand thumped against Makoto's chest, a full-body shiver punctuating his name. "Nnngh...don't stop, _please_." The hand rubbing against Makoto's dick trembled as it started tugging down the boxer briefs for a taste of skin-to-skin contact.

 

At some point, Makoto realized how quick this had escalated. At some point, he knew they should slow down, because they hadn't actually known one another for very long in the grand scheme of things, and today was a blur of emotional highs and they were bound to want to do everything all at once after not seeing one another for three days. Besides all that, Makoto had never had sex, and while he wanted to right now more than anything else in the world, some part of him protested, warning him not to ruin things in clumsy haste.

And then of course, Haruka's hand slid into his pants, and Makoto's thoughts fizzled. Foggy waves of heat replaced any rational thoughts running through his head, mantras of _more more_ and _please_ circling wildly. Haru's hand on him was like nothing he'd ever felt, and it was probably very clear that Makoto's sexual interest was piqued: he was fully hard almost instantly, the blood swelling in him so fast it made Makoto a little dizzy.

Biting down onto Haru's collarbone, Makoto attacked it with fervor, enough to leave a mark that wouldn't fade overnight. If Haru went so far as to beg, Makoto would certainly comply. His thumb flicked once more over the bud of Haru's nipple before his hand clenched around Haruka's ribcage and he panted out a heavy breath, holding him tight.

"H-Haru..." The sound of it was barely a whisper, shaken off his tongue. His cock swelled under Haru's exploring fingers, chest heaving with every hard-fought breath. Like being swallowed by fire.

 

Haruka's breath heaved, coming in frantic pants the longer Makoto sucked at his neck, teeth fierce and tongue sloppy. Makoto muddled everything, the very air around them, until all Haruka knew was the hard warmth in his hand and the tender ferocity savaging his collarbone. Carefully - as carefully as his heightened hormones allowed - he peeled Makoto's underwear farther down until he could free his cock. Hot, thick, and heavy, its weight settled into his hand, straining against his palm, and kindled an answering fire in Haruka's own body. "You're so _beautiful_ ," Haruka rasped, curling his fingers around Makoto. His hands were softer than Makoto's own, their calluses in different places from holding cooking chopsticks and utensils, and far gentler than his throaty voice suggested as his hand slid down the shaft and back up, achingly slow, savoring the slip of skin against skin.

His head spun, hearing his name in Makoto's wavery voice, so much _emotion_ under the tremor. Haruka's gentle stroking made a slow increase in pace, his other hand grabbing the back of Makoto's head and pressing their foreheads together. Makoto fit so well in his hand and felt so good; they hadn't spoken of it, but something in Haruka _knew_ this was untrod territory, that no one else had ever gripped Makoto this way he was, touched him this intimately. It was heady and addictive, the chance to learn Makoto's body and forever mark him as _his_ , for there was only one first to leave that invisible brand. _Tell me how it feels_ , the silence sang.

 

It wasn't that Makoto had been 'saving himself' really, or at least, he had never thought of it that way. It was simply that the people he had dated previously had never lit this kind of fire. The women he'd been with were nice and lovely, and he'd done his fair share of kissing with them. The one man he'd been with hadn't gone beyond heavy petting on the couch, because they both instantly realized the sexual attraction just wasn't there and the friendship was what would stick. Maybe there had been a few times where Makoto had wanted to take his relationship to the next level, but somehow, it never worked out that way. The level of passion necessary had never been there.

Now, with Haru, Makoto was overflowing with passion. Like all he'd kept in reserve over the years flooded out the second Haru kissed him. Even though he'd never had another person's hand on him in the way Haru was gripping him, he knew it was _because_ it was Haru that it felt so spectacular. He felt it from the chills that stood the hair on the back of his neck up down to his curling toes.  
  
The world shrank around them, in slow increments and then suddenly all at once, until there was nothing but Haru's voice, Haru's breath, Haru's hands, Haru's skin, Haru's scent.

So when Haru guided their foreheads together, so gentle despite the urgency below, Makoto allowed himself a moment to close his eyes and just _feel_. Haru said he was beautiful, but no, it was the other way around. It was Haru who took his breath away, Haru whose eyes glittered like depthless oceans, Haru whose voice made Makoto's heart pound.

Softly whining against Haru, Makoto's eyes peeled open again, despite his embarrassment to see what Haruka was doing down there. It was just...too tempting to look away, to not memorize the sight of Haru's nimble fingers wrapped around the girth of him, sliding the foreskin up and down, working his erection until his balls began to tighten.

"You feel.... _so good_ ," he breathed, barely able to get the words out. His left hand continued to seize possessively at Haru's ribs, keeping him close, while his right carded on an endless loop through Haru's hair. So soft. So soft. After a quick glance to Haru's face to see his expression (embarrassing but beautiful as it contorted in pleasure), Makoto slid his right hand down, rubbing the length of Haruka's thigh. "Should I... do you want me to...?"

 

Makoto's breathing bordered on frantic as Haruka's fingers tightened in their glide, thumb making dedicated strokes up and down the frenelum. Having Makoto - gorgeous, magnetic, amazing Makoto - at his mercy turned Haruka's excitement up to maximum. Knowing Makoto was _watching_ him as he pleasured him, knowing that the strangled, high whines in Makoto's throat were for _Haru_ alone...nearly shoved him face-first off the orgasm cliff without so much as a touch, only the dizzy spiral of dilating green eyes bringing him back under control.

He let out a wordless grunt as Makoto slid a broad hand on his leg, down and then up, his thumb just grazing Haruka's cock with the faintest of touches. Haruka's left hand clenched in Makoto's hair, right hand pausing in his latest downstroke to cup the heavy weight of Makoto's balls in his hand and tantalize the sensitive skin just behind them. He looked to Makoto, meeting his eyes, his own blown to wide black holes rimmed in blue. "Do what you want," he breathed huskily, the words an invitation instead of their normal deflection. "Makoto..." _Come for me..._

_Do what you want_ was such a mysterious way to give Makoto permission to take what he pleased, but there was no dissecting words with Haru. From the moment they'd started learning one another at the hospital, Haruka had been blunt and only said what he meant, exactly how he meant it. Even with all the words he'd put on the cards, nothing had been out of place in his confession, nothing superfluous in his speech. Haru was simple in that regard; it was just that Makoto truly understood how to read him.

It was in the blown pupils of his eyes, lined in ocean blue. And the way his fingers stroked along his frenulum with promise and then cupped his sac, teased his perineum.

_Do what you want, Makoto_ may as well have been a siren song for how it lured Makoto towards his climax. Haru was everywhere on him, around him, and they'd barely been touching or kissing for more than a few minutes, but Makoto was too full to the brim with desire to hold himself back properly.

Hastily, Makoto's right hand worked at the fly of Haruka's pants, but he didn't make it very far. He'd just gotten the zip down by the time a familiar, heady, hot sensation built up from the pit of his stomach and made his cock spasm a bit of precome into Haruka's hand.

"Can't-- _Ha---ru--_ " he panted, trembling. He wanted to touch Haru, but he was blinded with the impending orgasm, everything else shrinking in importance. It was especially the touch to his perineum, shortlived as it might have been, that took Makoto from the edge and over. Unable to help himself, he shouted, belatedly pushing his mouth against Haru's shoulder and all that bare skin to muffle the obscene noise. His body tensed, bucked, and he came, the thickness of it coating Haruka's fingers as they stroked him to completion and beyond.

 

"It's okay." Haruka's voice was thick, heavy with passion, his left hand making reassuring strokes against Makoto's neck as his body's tension built to a climax. The gasps got stronger and fiercer the more his hand rubbed Makoto's dick, so different from stimulating his own body. "Let go," Haruka encouraged, low voice dipping at least an octave, and Makoto cried out, the artless sound echoing through the room. Honest, holding nothing back, so sincere Haruka _ached_ everywhere. Delicately, mindless of his sticky fingers and sweater, Haruka massaged Makoto into aftermath, Makoto's mouth moist and heaving against his shoulder. Haruka was still hard, his cock tenting the dotted boxers through his open fly, but he felt close to satisfied as Makoto began turning soft against his hand. Touching someone who fired him heart and soul was radically different from drunken sex and mechanical copulation.

_I really need to figure out how we can do everything,_ Haruka thought to himself, regretting it when any mental image sent more heat to his groin.

He closed his eyes, concentrating on breathing and the scent of sex on Makoto and...and how desperately glad he was that he closed the altar earlier. That did it; Haruka sighed with reluctant relief, feeling the blood start to flow away from his crotch. He turned his head, pressing tiny kisses to Makoto's cheek, his ear, unwilling to move or disturb him.

 

It took a while for Makoto to come down from the full high of the moment. His body was loose and limber, like all the bones had seeped straight out of him. The warmth of being held, inhaling Haru's scent with every breath, eased him down in increments, and the small kisses gave him reason to smile quietly to himself. Haru's lips really were soft.

After a time, he opened his eyes, felt the world come back to him...and promptly panicked as reality collided with his brain.

"H-Haru..!" Leaning back to get a good look at him, Makoto's cheeks burned, his ears burned, everything burned. He'd come in Haruka's hand, on his sweater, a little excess on his own pants. And without tissues nearby, he felt like the absolute most inconsiderate boyfriend, the worst guest to Haru’s home at the very least. The thought occurred to use his napkin to wipe Haru clean, at least until they could get to the bathroom, but that seemed really vulgar somehow too. Haru had gone through the trouble to make dinner, and there Makoto was coming undone in his hand.

"I...I'm sorry, I didn't mean to... you're... Haru, your sweater..."

 

Makoto was quiet for so long, his nose nestled in against Haruka's shoulder, that Haruka thought he might have fallen asleep. There was a lassitude to him, a sense of relaxation and contentment Haruka had never seen from him before, and after the past few days an orgasm and a nap were probably just what Makoto needed. Guilt tried to well up, creeping fingers ascending his spine, but Haruka crushed it down, unwilling to let it spoil this time with Makoto. He ran his fingers through Makoto's hair with faint rhythm, seeking only the warm, silent accord between them.

Haruka felt it before Makoto moved, the transition from blissful lethargy into tautness. The fireman lurched back, nearly spilling Haruka from his lap in his embarrassed haste as Haruka blinked wide-eyed at him. "Makoto..." he began, his voice back at its normal low pitch as he searched Makoto's flaming face, something deep and incredibly _fond_ in his eyes. "Clothes wash. So do I." He puffed a soft sigh, leaning close to kiss one hot cheek. "Don't apologize for something I enjoyed so much."

The mess on his hand was starting to get a little tacky to the touch, though, and he reluctantly scooted out of Makoto's lap to go wash, fasten his pants, and bring back a fresh, warm-wet towel. Haruka crouched down next to Makoto, gently cleaning him up before guiding him back into his boxer briefs. "Better?" he asked, not only meaning about being clean.

 

Once again, Makoto was left speechless. Sure, Haru had been the one to take this from kissing to something more, but that didn't mean he had to be so level-headed about the outcome. Makoto had been so sure he'd ruined the evening, but there was Haru, a pillar, looking at him without any level of disgust or embarrassment.

There was something unbelievably _sexy_ in that tentative moment, before Haru leaned in to tenderly break it with a kiss.

When he left to get a towel, Makoto remained where he was, blindsided by the throb of desperation that pulsed through his body. Legs still crossed, slippers half off, pants undone, lips kiss-swollen, face red, he was the picture of debauched but still aching for something more.

The guilt began to wear off when Haru returned, so Makoto took the towel from him to finish cleaning himself off. Haru shouldn't have to do it for him, even if Makoto's chest swelled with affection to know he would. That Haru would take care of him.

_Better?_ Haru asked, and Makoto shook his head. No, he wasn't better.

One hand firmly caught Haruka's wrist, pulling him right back into his lap whether Haru came willingly or not. Their clothes were already ruined, and Makoto wanted to _see_ Haru, like Haru had seen him. The thought would have been filthy if it wasn't also filled with such trepidation and love. It wasn't anything perverse - Makoto just wanted to see what expression Haruka wore when he let himself go completely.

"I want," he breathed, mouthing at Haruka's lips as his free hand made its way back down to Haru's fly, so he could work the button free, "to touch you as well. To make Haru feel good, too."

 

Makoto yanked him off-balance, Haruka's bottom thudding into Makoto's lap as his free hand grabbed the front of Makoto's dark green sweater. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but Makoto cut any words off with his lips, nibbling with little kisses; tiny, seductive bites at his resistance that had no real desire to resist anything.

"I already said to do what you want." Haruka was back to feeling small and slightly pouty, dwarfed by Makoto's size and presence, tangled in a sort of thunderstruck amazement at how quickly he could shift from awkward to assertive. How much Haruka _liked_ that about him. "I didn't take it back just because you went first." Makoto's hand sprawled over Haruka's crotch, stirring it back to wakefulness as he nudged the button through the hole.

 

Makoto laughed, a little dizzy with the level of want still coursing through him. He was soft, sure, but at the same time, he felt as if all his senses were heightened, like Haru was still touching him even though he was now tucked back in and cleaned up. All Makoto wanted now was to make Haru feel as good as he had made Makoto feel, though suddenly he was a little worried about how to do that.

Even though he'd never done this with someone else, it wasn't like he'd never touched himself. It was the same principle, wasn't it? And with Haru saying _do what you want_ like that, Makoto just hoped he couldn't mess it up. Then again, when he thought about it, there was no way Haru could have messed up with him, so it should work the same in reverse.

"Tell me...if I do anything you don't like," he hummed, leaning in to pepper warm kisses along Haru's mouth. He let go of Haruka's wrist finally, both hands descending to make quick work of his pants. Heart hammering, fingers shaky, he still somehow managed to go on, to unzip and pull fabric aside, until his rough, calloused fingers brushed smooth, hardening flesh. "So... _hot_ ," he murmured, breaking the kiss gently to look down, to see Haru's shape as he held it in his hand.

_So hot_ , indeed.

Makoto moved his fingers slowly, exploring Haruka's cock and running his thumb along the frenulum in a gentle mimic of Haruka's earlier actions on him.

 

Makoto's hands trembled just a bit as they tugged on Haruka's pants, and that little shred of uncertainty made his hormones hiccup. Wiggling, Haruka lifted his hips so the pants could slip totally off; he wanted to be free, free for Makoto to touch and savor him. Free to buck up against his hand, seeking more grip and friction as they kissed. The dotty boxers went with them, leaving Haruka naked from the waist down, lanky legs in a lazy sprawl and too-big sweater's stained hem flirting with Makoto's wrist as he touched Haruka.

Touched _Haru._

Haru's warmth reacted to Makoto, swelling in eager invitation and firming in his grip. He hissed, the sound coming out through clenched teeth, when Makoto's thumb caressed his frenulum. Urgency flooded him as Makoto tightened, a needy keen escaping his mouth at how _different_ Makoto's hand felt on him. The mechanics were similar, but Makoto's hand was so deliciously _rough_ , big enough to make shorter strokes than when Haru touched himself. He panted, mouth open, as if there wasn't enough oxygen in the room, hips restless as they sought _moremoreMORE_ from Makoto. "Little...faster," he encouraged, eyelids dipping low, lips pulling just together for a moistening swipe by his tongue before parting again. Blotchy pink color crawled ivy-like up his neck, the mouth-shaped bruise on his collarbone standing out even more than against the winter pale of his skin.

 

It was unlike anything Makoto had ever seen before. It wasn't as if he'd never indulged in a porn or two (he was a normal, hot-blooded guy who'd gone through puberty just like everyone else), but even the sexiest videos he'd ever seen had nothing on this moment, when Haru shimmied out of his clothes with liquid fluidity and grace. It was perverse in the most beautiful way, the oversized sweater dipping off one of Haru's shoulders to give away the damage Makoto had caused. And instead of feeling embarrassed about it, the sight floored him. _He_ did that. Makoto did that to _Haru_.

It was like a mark that signified just how much Haru was his, and he suddenly felt desperate for Haru to leave a matching mark somewhere on him like a promise for the future.

_Little...faster_.

Makoto groaned, kissed Haru's open mouth, and sank his free hand to Haru's hip, tentatively feeling his smooth, bare skin. Did he shave all over? Was it from swimming? Makoto's mouth watered as he picked up the pace, jerking Haru faster and finally looking down to watch, to see the flushed head and the way the skin moved in his grip. It got Makoto wound up to see the effect he was having. That he could do such a thing to Haru, make him feel so good. Makoto's gaze lifted, focusing then entirely on Haru's face, his expression, the beautiful glitter in his eyes when they opened.

 

Just as he knew Makoto had never let anyone touch him that way before, the rational (and quickly diminishing) part of Haru's mind knew that Makoto had never touched another guy before Haru. Never slipped his fingers up and down anyone's dick but his own. Never watched someone as those fingers lit him on fire, sculpting pleasure out of something as pedestrian as a simple touch. Makoto's hand curled tighter, thumb skating with exquisite care over the swollen, sensitive crest of his cock and Haru twitched, the muscles in his naked bottom tightening as he wiggled against Makoto's lap, seeking more. "Yes..." he gasped out, feeling his consciousness starting to stretch and burst, anything and everything that comprised him turning to only _Makoto_.

_You have no idea just what you do to me.....!!!!_

One hand fumbled against Makoto's chest, grasping helplessly at his sweater as Haru came and came unglued, not even able to move or stifle the wordless sound of satisfaction that punctuated his release. He twitched in Makoto's hand, turning toes-curled boneless in Makoto's lap. His blue eyes were barely open, cloudy with bliss, his breathing heaving as if he'd just run all the way up the shrine stairs. Makoto may have drawn greatest fortune there, but it was _Haru_ who felt he was now the lucky one.

 

Surreal was the only way Makoto could have described the sight before him. Haru, wriggling and clenching and bucking, riding into his lap and then folding over with a soft noise of completion, grabbing his sweater, expression completely loose and unbound. Makoto's chest ached with how hard his heart thrummed, pulse point racing.

"Haru," he whispered, milking Haru through the end of his orgasm until he knew he had to pull his fingers away. The skin there would be too sensitive to keep touching, even if it was all Makoto wanted to never lift his hand from Haru again. The image fluttered before his eyes of bringing Haru off like this and not stopping, to see just how far the pleasure could go before Haru couldn't stand it anymore.

Flushed with his own filthy thoughts, Makoto kissed Haru's jaw, neck, ear, cheek as he let him come down. His fingers were webbed with come, but he didn't care. At the moment, all that mattered was keeping Haru here, in his lap, so the hand at his hip wound to the small of his back, fingers stretching along his slim waist to haul him closer.

And when he felt that Haru's breath wasn't quite as labored anymore, he ducked his head to steal a warm, heavy kiss.

 

Haru distantly knew he should move, should get up and extricate himself from the cradle of Makoto's lap, but...he had no idea where his knees were. And moving his legs was somewhat predicated on having knees. Makoto kissing him everywhere further stole his desire to do anything but simply exist, to be perfectly free in the shelter of Makoto's hold, to drink in the heady flush of Makoto's face and the secrets in his wide green eyes. Oxygen deficit shrank with each slowing breath, pulling the light-headed veil back from his consciousness, Makoto's hand against his back a warm, reassuring weight that said clearer than any words, _I am here._

_I am here and here is where I crave to be._

Haru opened his mouth, welcoming Makoto to him with a silent _Okaeri_. He was pure, effortlessly sweet, delicious in a way Haru avoided with food but sought with greed now. The kiss stayed slow, languorous, each of them savoring the taste of the other while the late January wind flirted with the sliding doors to the porch.

 

* * *

 

In the bathroom, the two of them washed up side-by-side, Makoto unable to help smiling at Haru every few seconds, like a grade-schooler who'd just been told a silly joke. He still felt lightheaded and sapped of energy, but that was strangely good. It should have worried him, a feeling he'd never felt before, but instead it calmed him, because Haru was right there with him.

Amazingly enough, Makoto's pants would live to see another day. Maybe his sweater too. Haru offered to throw them in the wash with his own, so Makoto wound up eating his cake at the kotatsu wearing a spare set of sweat pants and a sweater he knew Haru had never been able to fit into. He either had a thing for sweaters that were too big for him by three sizes or he just hadn't bothered to notice the size discrepancy. Luckily for Makoto, it worked out for something to lounge in while the clothes were cleaned.

After dessert, Makoto helped Haru clean the dishes, not about to take no for an answer this time, and when that was done, he found a blanket from the storage area and brought it in to keep them warm while they sat down to watch a movie.

The evening was already getting late when the movie began, but Makoto was used to late nights. Haru, on the other hand, looked exhausted and though Makoto offered to let him rest, Haru seemed adamant that they finish the night properly. So Makoto put in his choice for the movie, a subtitled version of The Avengers, which had been out for so long but he'd never had a chance to see it with his schedule as it had been. He settled down beside Haru on the couch, smiled, and opened his arm to allow Haru in if he wanted.

 

The easy domesticity between them felt natural, each one instinctively moving in synch with the other. Haruka washed a dish, rinsing it clean, and Makoto's hand took it to dry with no wasted movement. Haruka found Makoto with his giddy faces far more soothing than any of the normal stilted small talk intended to cover over the awkwardness of 'I just had my hands down your pants'. Or, in his case, pants completely off. Haru didn't put pants back on after giving Makoto clothes, only clean boxers and a purple hoodie that said 'Kandai' on it. Barefoot, not bothering with slippers, he tucked in next to Makoto on the tatami floor sofa. An oversized, overstuffed futon with bolsters on the back, it made for a comfortable place to snuggle and sprawl while watching television. He had seen the movie before, but with Age of Ultron due out later that year a refresher wouldn't hurt. Makoto's arm was warm around him, heavy but not burdensome, his big hand fitting easily against Haruka's narrow hip. Makoto's shoulder, for all its bulk, enveloped him like the blanket on their laps; Makoto's chest made a remarkable pillow. Haruka turned his face into his Makoto-pillow and yawned, determined to stay awake. He didn't think he could forgive himself if he fell asleep.

About the time Tony and Pepper were having 12% of a moment, Haruka was having 100% of a nap, body limp and relaxed against Makoto and breathing steady. He had slept little since the night he ran out of the swim club and was far more of a morning person than a night one. He stirred whenever things blew up on screen, eyes never quite coming open before settling back into sleepy rhythm. Sometime before drifting off he'd tucked his hand under Makoto's where it rested on his hip, curling his fingers around Makoto's thumb, almost a reverse of the first time they'd held hands in the hospital.

 

Kisumi had insisted that Avengers wasn't a scary movie. He'd tried to convince Makoto twice to see it in theaters, but despite not having time, there was also the issue of it being the kind of movie he'd like. After all, The Dark Knight movie, which Makoto had been looking forward to years ago, had effectively scared him off of all superhero films for a while. This, though; it was okay. There was a lot of humor in between the grit of action, and nothing was too frightening that Makoto couldn't keep his eyes open for it.

When he felt Haru's weight turn heavy against him, he settled in and quietly turned the volume down so the rougher scenes wouldn't wake Haru up. The truth was, Makoto liked the movie just fine, but spending time like this with Haru tucked in against him was precious. There was no way he'd want to disturb the moment.

After a time, Makoto kissed the top of Haru's head. The end credits were rolling, and while Makoto had heard there were some cute extras at the end, it was already late, and obviously he had taken advantage of Haru's hospitality. Even if he didn't want to pull away, he knew he couldn't stay the night. Not tonight. Soon, maybe, because it was certainly on Makoto's mind that he'd like to wake up with Haru curled against him, but this wasn't the right time.

The screen went dark, bathing the room further in shadow. "Haru," Makoto whispered, gently attempting to rouse him. "I should leave. We both need our rest, ne?" He smiled down at Haru. It was good to know 'leaving' meant just crossing the stairs that led to the shrine.

 

Haruka floated somewhere far beneath the water, drifting and weightless. Alone. Sinking slowly. His wide-spread arms did nothing to break his descent, offered no resistance to the water's embrace as it swallowed him. Consumed him. The deeper it drew him, the calmer and more serene the water became, the light from the sun fading into gradual darkness. He could stay here forever. He _should_ stay here forever. The water was safe. The water was home.

The water...was lonely. Blue eyes drifted wearily shut, welcoming the dark.

Tiny, excited ripples plunged down into the depths with him, seeking him, calling his name - his private name. Haruka opened his eyes, the waver of water-vision shimmering before them. Light. Heat. A hand - powerful and masculine - reaching to grab his. He couldn't see more than that, but he didn't need to. The edges of his mouth relaxed into a gentle smile, welcoming the hand around his, welcoming the tug that pulled him up-up-up through the water and back to....

"Makoto." The name sighed from Haruka's lips, his eyes scrunching before slanting open, hazy blue attempting to focus on Makoto. _Oh._ He'd fallen asleep on Makoto. _On_ Makoto. Haruka ducked his head, kitten-nuzzling down against Makoto's chest. How embarrassing. How _annoying_. "Sorry," he grumbled without looking up. "I really do like that movie." Pause. "And you." At least this was better than his stupid unstoppable wordiness when he was overtired.

Still looking down, Haruka breathed out a heavy sigh, breath warm and moist through Makoto's borrowed sweater. He didn't want Makoto to go, but he knew Makoto lived with his family. That meant ties and obligations and a mother who probably still would wait up for him even though her first precious child was a grown man. He made a sound of reluctant agreement and sat up without leaving the shelter of Makoto's arm, curling his back and shoulders underneath it like a stretching cat, breathing deep and bracketed with a faint wheeze. "I'm glad you don't live far from me." He rubbed at his eyes, finally blinking up at Makoto, gaze fond and soft. "I'm just...glad."

 

Makoto's laugh was quiet, not at all wanting to disturb the beauty that was Haru opening his ocean blue eyes. He had such a softness about him like this that Makoto was leery of leaving at all. He'd have liked to hold Haru a while longer, stroke fingers through his hair, kiss him lazily. But Haru was already stretching to sit up, and Makoto had already announced that he should leave.

"Me too," he said, leaning in to place a soft kiss to Haru's forehead. "I'll come back tomorrow to pick up my clothes." Makoto still had the decency to blush thinking about what they'd done. "If that's okay."

Well, Makoto wanted to come back either way, but he doubted his clothes had finished drying on the line at this hour. Anyway, he had been seen wearing weirder things when coming off a long shift, and no one but his mother would be up to notice.

Pushing himself off the couch, he offered his hand to Haru. He wouldn't let him fall asleep there in front of the TV. And that gave him another minute to touch Haru's skin and be near him. Finally, he stepped back, the heat of their connection still tingling in his fingertips. "I can show myself out. Sleep well, Haru."

 

Haruka's eyelashes made lace fans against his cheeks, his eyes closing when Makoto kissed his forehead. "Makoto," he said, sleep making his voice huskier than normal. "Bring some clothes tomorrow to keep here." Eyelashes parted, feathering up and showing his eyes again, luminescent and blue in the anemic light. "Do you work tomorrow?"

Just as in the dream, as in the waking dreams he kept having, Haruka placed his hand in Makoto's without hesitation, savoring the touch and the security he associated with Makoto as the fireman hauled him to his feet. He wobbled a bit, still sleepy and off-balance, but Makoto's hold steadied him, large hands cupped around his hoodied elbows until he was sure Haruka wouldn't fall. "Okay," he agreed, leaning in for a brief, fragile kiss. "I want to kiss you more, but I can't keep my eyes open." He bent forward, forehead planting softly against Makoto's chest. "Thanks...for not giving up on me while I got my head together." Haruka yawned, swaying with the effort of it, and reluctantly watched Makoto go, pulling on his coat and trading slippers for shoes. "Good night, Makoto," he said, fingers twitching in a wave as the metal front door slid closed.

Turning, Haruka ignored the stairs, returning to the living room and a full-body flop onto the floor couch. He squirmed under the blanket, not caring about details like pillows or sleeping position. Before Makoto completed his walk down the stairs and through the garden to his family home, Haruka sank back into blissful unconsciousness underneath a blanket that filled his dreams with Makoto's scent.

 

As Makoto made his way down the stairs and through the garden, he felt Haru's words wash over him once more: _Bring some clothes tomorrow to keep here_. Did that mean...? Makoto had just finally been able to settle his heart down after Haru's confession and their kisses, their flight of intimacy near the kotatsu, and now it was flaring right back up like someone had just pulled a fire alarm.

Makoto had never had a relationship grow so quickly, and yet he didn't think it was presumptuous at all: he wanted to leave clothes at Haru's, wanted to spend the night there, wanted to wake up with Haru in his arms. It didn't feel strange or fast at all; if anything, it felt natural, like something he didn't even know was missing had finally been found.

In the entry of his home, Makoto was as quiet as he could be. The lights were dim, which meant hopefully everyone was asleep. He sat down silently, taking off his shoes as a soundless yawn stretched his mouth. With Haru, he hadn't realized just how tired he was, but now that he was alone again, all he could think about was curling up under the blankets in his room, falling asleep. Just then he caught a whiff of the shirt he wore, the specific detergent Haru must use, and smiled dreamily to himself. Maybe he would keep Haru's shirt with him upstairs tonight. Maybe he could even--

"You're home late."

Makoto yelped, jumping back from the genkan and flinging a slipper he'd had in hand. The terrified expression on his face melted as soon as he saw his mother standing there, laughing, having caught the slipper he'd thrown.

"I didn't mean to frighten you, Makoto." She drew closer, reaching out to tenderly pet his head. "I was only waiting up to make sure you were safe."

"I was only across the way," Makoto said, his ears a bright shade of red. He really wished he had a little more of his mother's courage and a little less of his father's tendency to jump to all the wrong conclusions first. He sighed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to worry you."

"That's my job," she answered. "Did you eat with Haruka?"

Makoto nodded, although he couldn't bring himself to tell her how much effort Haru had gone to. The cake. Every little detail, just for him. His face continued to warm with remembrance.

"Did you have a good time?"

The whole evening felt like a dream. A dream that Makoto never wanted to end. Was it a good time? How could he even begin to describe? With Haru...he felt complete. With his gaze downcast, he accepted the other slipper, slid his feet into both, and leaned in to give his mother a kiss on her cheek.

"It was very good, yes, thank you, I'm really tired though, so good night!"

As he rushed upstairs, Makoto felt like he was nine again and trying to sneak a lizard in from the garden as a pet. His mother had known then, and he wondered if she knew now.

In his bedroom with the door closed, Makoto laid down fully clothed and curled into himself in bed. The scent of Haru (of water and passion, saba and chocolate) surrounded him. He didn't have work in the morning, which meant he had two choices: lay in bed in Haru's clothes, thinking of Haru, or go see Haru and spend the day with him. He pulled out his phone to text Haru, hoping it wouldn't wake him:

**_If you're not busy, I'm free all day_.**

 

The buzzing of Haruka's phone (seated deep in the pocket of his hoodie and wedged right near his hip and his genitals) startled him from his face-down position of unconciousness. Bleary-eyed and heavy-headed, he blinked in the dark, something glowing down near his groin. _Oh. Phone._ He levered himself up on his elbows, rolling with a groan to his side and hauling the smartphone out. It could only be Makoto; Rin usually called rather than messaging, because he stood a better chance of Haruka answering that way.

**_If you're not busy, I'm free all day._ **

Haru found himself touching the screen, tracing the letters with tired fondness (and hastily having to use the back button, the touch screen still was new to him). This time yesterday he'd been unable to sleep for more than fifteen minutes at a time, anxiously going over each of his poster boards again and again, baking and frosting Makoto's cake, staggering up the starlit stairs to the shrine with a handful of coins and a desperate, lonely wish on his lips.

_I think I got my wish, but it's so much better than I thought._

Haruka closed his eyes, clutching the phone against his chest. There were feelings inside him he didn't think he could ever separate and give distinct names. ones he didn't think he could ever speak aloud, even after a thousand years of waking up beside Makoto.

He yawned, trying not to fall back asleep before answering Makoto. Haruka started swipe-typing but thought better of it, toggling to a different screen and recording a message instead. Across the street, Makoto's phone buzzed with a new MMS, an embedded voice recording in it.

**_Typing tonight is too much effort. Let's go to Tottori City tomorrow, I hear there are nice museums there. Goodnight, Makoto._ **

 

Hearing Haru's voice, even through his phone, meant the world to Makoto. He listened to Haru's message three times before he closed out the app and opened the web browser. Still in Haru's borrowed clothes, still curled on his bed with a goofy, dream-like smile on his face, Makoto did a little looking for what time the museums opened, places he might be able to show Haru. Having lived in Iwatobi all his life, Makoto knew the surrounding areas well, too, especially Tottori City, but it had been a while since he'd had time to explore. The last time might have been when he took the twins to visit the sand dunes a few years ago.

Glancing out his window, he sighed. It was too cold for that sort of thing. It was also too cold to see Amedaki Fall, and it would be a lot of walking for Haru if they visited the castle ruins or Mitaki Canyon.

Stifling a yawn, Makoto pulled the blankets over his body, blinking his eyes closed slowly every few minutes as he researched. It meant a lot, to show Haru these things, to experience them with him. But despite how much he tried to plan in advance to ensure they had a good time, to make it a perfect date, Makoto wound up falling asleep before he could finish. Makoto's last 48-hour shift had really done a number on him, not because of any real emergencies that were unusually stressful but because he'd spent the majority of the time staring at his phone, hoping Haru was okay, missing him, feeling things he'd never felt before and trying not to add guilt on top of them.

In the end, fatigue won out and Makoto's lips parted, mouth slack as he dreamed, his phone still tucked between curled fingers protectively.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy birthday to Haru! In his honor, we bring you another chapter, featuring their first official date.

"I want Makoto to make my bento."

"Me too! He makes the best tamagoyaki."

"Shh! Your brother is still sleeping. Leave him be."

Voices lilted from downstairs into Makoto's bedroom, and he peeked one eye open to check how much light was coming in through his window. It was very early, since the sun's rays weren't as bright as mid-morning, and if Ren and Ran were still there, that meant they hadn't left for school yet.

Their voices quieted, but the smell of rice, eggs, soy sauce, nori, and fish made Makoto smile drowsily. It was like when he was in school. His mother always made the best bentos (though the twins liked what Makoto cooked, he was fully aware most of it wound up burned or over-salted). She usually left a treat in them too, so there was no doubt something chocolatey in Ren's and something fruity in Ran's.

Drifting in and out of sleep, Makoto finally dragged himself out of bed around nine, stretching. The first thing he did, before he went down to say good morning to his mother, was text Haru:

**_Most of the museums open at ten. :)_ **

Makoto needed to shower, change, eat something, but he was also so desperate to see Haru again that he almost forgot which order things needed to be done in. He'd stepped out onto the landing before he realized he should probably shower first so he wouldn't catch a cold outside. The floorboard creaked under his weight.

"Makoto?" his mother called. "Are you awake?"

"Yes," he answered, completely forgetting himself and heading down the stairs as he normally did on his days off to help his mother clean off the table and take out trash. He set his phone down on a side table as he entered the kitchen. " _Ohayo_." He leaned down behind her to kiss her cheek.

"Ohayo," she said. She had been smiling, but the expression fell at the sight of him. "E-eh, Makoto, are you feeling all right?"

"Mm?"

"Your clothes."

Makoto looked down and nearly dropped the dishes he'd been gathering.

"Did you fall asleep in those?" she asked, laughing a little. "You really must have been tired. Come to think of it, are those new? They don't look familiar."

Makoto's face blossomed red as he brought dishes to the sink and started washing them for her. "Haru let me borrow some yesterday."

"Haru? Oh, Haruka, you mean?"

"Mm."

"That was nice of him. Did you spill something on yours?"

It was at this point that Makoto realized he either had to lie or change the subject, neither of which he was particularly good at. "Something...like that," he murmured. "I'm actually going out with Haru today."

"You must really like him," his mother mused, smiling fondly. "Maybe he'd like to come over for dinner this week? With his parents gone and his grandmother recently passed, he must be very lonely in that house."

Makoto's phone buzzed on the table, but he forced himself to finish the dishes instead of rushing to see what it said. "Mm, he likes to cook though."

"But he cooks for a living. He must get tired of it. I'll make something special for him. As a condolence for his grandmother and in hopes that he gets well soon."

"That's very nice of you. I'll ask him today." Makoto paused, then added fondly, "He really likes saba," thinking of Haru's story about his breakfast of choice throughout his school days.

"Saba," she mused, leaning over the counter to find her makeshift cookbook, an assortment of recipes from generations of their family and extended family. She rifled through it while Makoto cleaned up, and was still absorbed when he went upstairs to text Haru back and shower so they could leave.

 

 

The faintest bits of sunlight filtered in through the shoji porch doors, bathing Haruka's face in dots of warmth. Curled in his futon sofa nest, wrapped in a Makoto-scented blanket, he woke up in slow measures to the sound of birds chirping in the courtyard and the shrine cats meowing in hopes of a little fishy breakfast. Haruka stretched, feeling rested, content...and loved. _Makoto loves me._ He burrowed back down, flipping the edge of the blanket up over his heating face. He could wake up this way forever, the low curl of satisfaction and belonging seating itself around the desire for more.

The loudest of the cats - Haruka tended to call her 'Midori' for her green eyes - yowled with impatience and he knew that was his call to start the day. He rolled to his feet, hopping from foot to foot until he seated them into the slippers - the tatami floor felt especially cold this morning - and he pulled the Makoto-blanket up and around him like a cloak. There was a deliciously ripe bundle of fish guts and parts in a sealed container in the fridge, along with some stray shredded pieces from last night's dinner he didn't feel were quite aesthetic enough to serve. Good saba going to the cats - what has becoming a small-town chef done to him?

Opened his heart, for one. Opened his home-that-actually-feels-like-home-now. Opened his closed-off and isolated world.

Container in hand, Haruka pulled open the porch doors and stepped outside. It had turned colder overnight and the sudden rush of chilly air into his lungs made him cough repeatedly, chest knotting. Still healing, still annoying, he thought; the last time he went to the doctor she'd mentioned environmental changes would affect him for some time, possibly permanently, as his lungs either regained capacity or his body adapted to their diminished intake. Not unlike being asthmatic; as long as they didn't throw a damned inhaler at him, he'd manage. For now, he was glad the cats paid his ongoing wheezing no mind. Midori threaded her fat calico body in figure eights around his bare legs, depositing stray hairs all over his slippers and protesting her empty stomach. "Right, right, _*cough*_ I know you're starving. _*cough cough*_ " He crouched to set everything down, four purring bodies crowding around the pungent fish parts. Faintly smiling, Haruka delved his fingers into thick winter fur, petting each one in turn and feeling himself relax, the tightness in his chest easing as he did. He shivered in his Makoto-blanket, coughing once more, and decided it was time to go inside. Bath before breakfast.

Once he was clean and had a thorough soaking, a towel around his waist replacing the normal jammers, Haruka tied on his apron to cook some fish. There was a little leftover rice in the cooker, just enough for one. The routine came almost without thought: Haruka salted and grilled his fish, warmed the rice, heated up some miso soup, hit the tea server, took out some picked vegetables, and had everything ready at the same time. He slid under the warming kotatsu with his stack of dishes, iPad on the corner of the table. Rin threatened to call today, and Haruka doubted Yamazaki would stop him. Especially if Yamazaki saw it as another chance to walk around naked. Exhibitionist loser, he grumbled, ignoring the fond smile trying to slip across his mouth as he gobbled his breakfast. Out of the hospital a month and still eating everything in sight that wasn't sweet, but he'd barely gained back any of the lost weight. There were enough groceries in the house for a few days, but he needed to go back to the store, maybe get some canned cat food as well. He wouldn't always share his saba with the cats.

Rin's Face Time request shrilled in as Haruka put the clean dishes away. He scooped up the iPad and his phone in one motion, walking towards the stairs and clearing his throat before he answered. "Hey, Rin."

"Haruka! At least you're clean, future fish, but where are your clothes? It's not summer there!" Rin's crimson eyes looked him up and down. "Is that just a towel? What happened to your jammers?"

"Easier to wank in the bathtub without them." Haruka heaved out a whistly breath as he reached the second floor.

"Now I know you're fucking with me, you'd never 'defile the water' that way. Only in the shower," Rin added, cackling to himself as if he'd made a witty joke. "So, how did it go? And _, dude_ , those are some serious teeth marks on your neck!" Rin's eyes got huge with excitement.

"It went well. Laying you on the bed for a sec," Haruka said, taking out the fish print boxers and exchanging the towel for them. He took a moment to look in the mirror and inspect the spot where Makoto had bitten him. It was sore when he touched it, definitely bruised, the outlines of Tachibana teeth deeply etched in his skin. He had a passing copy of Makoto's dental records right here on his collarbone. Wow.  
  
"It's obvious that you got at least a little kissing in," Rin's disembodied voice said from the bed. "How do you feel?"  
  
"Loved," he admitted, fondly tracing around the hickey one more time. "We had a great evening and we're going out today, over to Tottori City."

"I'll pretend I have the remotest clue where that is. Ah," Rin sighed dreamily, eyes glazing, "young love. We never thought our baby would grow up and become a man."

"Not everyone gets to fall in love with someone they've known all their lives, Rin." Haruka picked the iPad back up, frowning at what he saw. He let out a quiet, familiar sigh. "Are you crying?"

"...no." A liquid sniff said Matsuoka Rin was a horrible liar. "I'm...just...I know how fucking _lucky_ I am with Sousuke, and I have wanted you to have someone who makes you feel that same way. It felt so _unfair_ that I was happy and you weren't."

"I wasn't unhappy," Haruka countered; there was no need for Rin to feel guilty about his own happiness. "And I wasn't lonely, not all the time. I just...didn't want to bother with it. With other people. With dating. With sex."

"Do you know how much of a heart attack you gave us the time you called up and said 'I got drunk last night at a school event and I think I had sex with my instructor'?" Laughter through tears, Matsuoka Rin's second-most famous emotion, cackle-snorted across the screen; he was the only person Haruka knew who managed to look good teary-eyed and sharky mouth wide open in glee. "Only to figure out that no, it wasn't your instructor at all, but your practice partner. You still can't fucking tell girls apart. How long did you date her?"

"Thirty-seven minutes, including the three times we had sex." Haruka's attention drifted for a moment, teeth worrying his bottom lip. "Rin? Email me some links later, I need to learn about doing it with a guy."

"What? You mean Tall, Gorgeous and Fireman didn't kick the door down and turn his hose on you last night?"

Haruka glared and lowered his voice. "Is Sousuke around?"

"Yeah?"

"Yamazaki!" Haruka yelled as loud as he was able to. "Rin's being a crass jerk, smack him for me." A large hand came into the frame, popping the back of Rin's head. "Thanks. I'll let you know if he needs another. And, thanks for wearing pants today."  
  
Sousuke pointed his index finger at the screen in a gun pantomime, making a clicking sound with his tongue. "Because it's you, Nanase." Neither of them would give in and use first names directly, even if they did when speaking to other people. "Are those drawers all you're wearing today?"

"No."

Sousuke snorted and rolled his eyes. "Still hopeless. Rin, dress him before he goes out in nothing but his fish pantsu. Unless the fireman's into that sort of thing?"

"I'm hanging up if the embarrassing me doesn't stop," Haruka grumbled.

"Go cook us some lunch, you big oaf, and let me handle this." Rin shoved Sousuke's hip, trying to move him out of the frame. "We've got to be back at practice at 1 and I want a nap if I can squeeze it in." He turned his attention back to Haruka, the shark-smile spreading wide. "Now, I think we should start with some skinny pants and build from there...."

* * *

 

Makoto's message notification jingled not long after Haruka finished with Rin. They settled on a navy pair of pants, tight-fitted and showing off every line of Haruka's legs, a pale cream shirt heavy enough for the colder weather, a dark purple V-necked sweater (Rin had rejected it until they put a shirt under it, as it would have displayed Haruka's lovebite like a museum piece), dotted dark socks and cream-and-navy spectator oxfords. Haruka found it a bit too attention-getting, but Rin had been right about everything else and it made sense to trust him. He deposited the shoes at the genkan and sent back a reply.

**Okay. We can take the train there? Come up when you're ready, or I can come down?**

**I'll come up. Give me a few minutes.**

Makoto rushed frantically around his small room, desperate to find something appropriate. Even though last night had technically been their first date, this was the first time they were going out together all day, and Makoto wanted to look as good as Haru made him feel. It was a little bit like the first date he'd ever gone on, with a girl Yazaki Aki from his swim club and grade school, how much he fretted over the right pair of pants and the proper shirt.

Aki had never made a comment one way or another about what Makoto had chosen back then, and Makoto didn't really think Haru would care now, but it still mattered somehow.

Even so, he couldn't take forever when he'd promised a few minutes, so Makoto eventually grabbed some of his most comfortable clothes: a red plaid button-up under a brown leather jacket. The shirt partially tucked into his straight leg jeans, which were cuffed at the ankles, he pulled on a belt, grabbed his phone, and hesitated near his nightstand. After a brief moment, he finally picked up his glasses and slid them on. Normally, he could get by without them, but he wasn't sure how long he and Haru would be out, and he'd rather be safe than have to worry over a migraine later.

"You're leaving already?" his mother asked as Makoto passed her.

"Mm," Makoto agreed. He sat down on the genkan to remove his slippers and slide into dark brown boots. When he stood back up, he grabbed a cream scarf just in case. "I might miss dinner. Is that okay?"

"Two nights in a row," she said with gentle teasing. "What will we do without you, Makoto?"

"You won't burn the rice for one thing," Makoto teased back, leaning in to kiss her forehead.

"I won't wait up."

Makoto hesitated in the door, glancing back to her. Did that...mean anything? Specifically? Did she know that he might be home very late, if things went as they had the previous evening? His ears burned as he waved to her, smiling politely as he closed the door behind him and made his way out of his garden and up the stairs to Haru's home. He knocked gently, stomach suddenly in knots. He hadn't been on a date in a while, and Haru was so important to him. He sent a silent prayer up to the shrine that all went well.

"Ohayo, Haru," he said when the door opened. His smile was broad and infatuated...until he actually focused on Haru. In front of him now, Haru looked.... He was.... _Sexy_. "You look good," he said, stumbling over the compliment just a little. "Did you sleep well?" Oh. Oh, no, that wasn't what he meant to ask! "A-ah, I forgot the clothes you lent me!" Which only drew more attention to the fact that he'd _needed_ to borrow clothes, and this---this wasn't going at all well. Makoto took a deep breath, rubbing the back of his neck. "Sorry. I haven't...done this in a while. I thought it would be like riding a bike, but it's... You're so handsome, I keep forgetting what I'm saying."

 

 

Haruka returned the greeting, waving Makoto inside so they didn't let too much cold air in and closing the door behind him. It might have been the clothes, but Makoto looked even taller today; his legs seemed endless and the shirt and jacket emphasized the breadth of his shoulders. _I am very, very fortunate indeed_ , Haruka thought to himself, leaning back against the metal sliding door and just watching Makoto talk. And talk, stumbling over his words with an endearing gracelessness that warmed Haruka's entire body. "I'm like riding a bike, gotcha," he teased, stepping forward and tucking his arms around Makoto's middle, head nestling under Makoto's chin. "Thanks. I'd like to take credit, but Rin helped me pick clothes." The plaid shirt held some of the same scent Haruka had curled around his body all night. "Don't worry, I'm nervous, too." He bumped Makoto's chin with the top of his head, content just to cling to him for a moment and breathe in his scent. Haruka was also aware that while this excursion today qualified as a date, it was very different for two men to go out than a man and a woman, at least in public in Japan. Affection simply wasn't the norm.

"To answer," Haruka mused, his voice muffled against Makoto's shirt, "yes, I slept well, still sorry for nodding off on you. The clothes you borrowed are fine, I brought yours in and folded them." He would remind Makoto later to bring more clothes and leave them here, so if he got off shift and hadn't bathed before leaving, he could bathe here. In Haruka's bathroom. Sitting on Haruka's shower seat. Soaking in Haruka's bathtub. Now who was feeling awkward? Makoto and water were a deadly combination for his libido.

"We should get going," Haruka said, not quite sure how to get his arms to turn loose of Makoto. "If we don't make the next train, we'll have to wait an hour." Reluctantly, he let go, sitting down on the genkan to pull his shoes on and tie them. His long black coat hung on the tree, along with a black plaid scarf; he donned both in short order, making sure the scarf was wrapped around his face as well, and tugged a navy beanie out of the coat's pocket. Dressed and appointed, they left Haruka's house, heading down the long stretch of stairs to the sea road into town and the train station.

They made it to the station with seven minutes to spare before the Sanin Line's scheduled departure towards Tottori. Haruka took a seat on the bench to catch his breath, glad the station's platform was enough out of the wind that he didn't start coughing. Again. That made it doubly hard to breathe. "Everyone says the armor collection at the Watanabe is worth seeing," he said once he had enough breath to talk again. "Speaking of seeing, you don't wear glasses all the time?" Haruka liked them on Makoto, very much, but saying it out loud seemed a bit embarrassing.

 

 

The breeze was cold outside, so Makoto wrapped the scarf around his neck, although he was warm enough already from all of Haru's touching and teasing. It was new for Makoto, but he couldn't say he minded when Haru put his hands on him or nuzzled his chin like a cat. In fact, it was all Makoto could think on as they walked, how beautiful Haru was, and how tender too. The passion he'd shown the previous evening was replaced now with a calm energy that Makoto had already decided was one of his favorite aspects of Haru's personality. It wasn't that Haru was quiet, necessary; it was just that he said more with his eyes and delicate facial expressions, and Makoto liked learning that language.

Makoto took a seat beside Haru, leaning forward so he blocked some of the wind from Haru. It didn't escape his notice that Haru was still recovering, struggling to catch his breath after even a short walk. Makoto would slow his pace today, in that case.

"Ah, you noticed, hm?" Makoto scratched his cheek thoughtfully with one finger, smiling. "I don't have to wear them all the time, but I'm nearsighted, so if I go a whole day without them and need to read signs and things, I'd probably have to end our date early. They're cumbersome, but..." He wondered, briefly, if this was a lot of detail for a simple question, but Haru didn't look bored. With the way Makoto's body was facing, he took a chance, finding Haru's hand against the bench to warm it with his own, a hidden secret covered by their shadows. "I don't really like putting contacts in. I always end up poking myself, flinching, and dropping them."

The sound of the incoming train caught Makoto's attention briefly. He gave Haru's hand one more squeeze, then stood up as he let it go so they could board.

The train was only partially full at this time of day, so Makoto secured them a seat without anyone next to him, Haru on the end. It just seemed like Haru would prefer not having to sit beside someone.

"I haven't been to Tottori in a while," he said, as the train started up again, clacking beneath them on the tracks. "Did you ever go with your family when you visited? I can't wait until it warms up. If you've never seen the sand dunes, we'll have to go. Did you know you can ride camels there?" He laughed. "It's mainly for kids, but it's hard to resist, even at my age."

 

 

Haruka focused so tightly on breathing and on making sure Makoto didn't notice his issues with breathing that he never noticed Makoto's silent assessment. More the better; Haruka's pride was a fierce and stubborn thing, unwilling to give in even when his endurance met its limits. As it had earlier, the tight feeling in his chest went away, slowly, leaving him more able to draw full breaths.

Nearsighted. Haruka couldn't remember if that meant trouble seeing things near or seeing things far. His own eyes functioned well enough, though his grandmother had worn reading glasses after she turned sixty or so. "I'll read them," Haruka said. "For you," he added, ducking his chin and looking in the other direction. His "I like them on you" was almost too soft to hear, the words eagerly swept up by the wind. The warmth of Makoto's hand around his took him by surprise, and his fingers greedily curled into Makoto's. Somehow, he'd thought that realizing he loved Makoto would be a milestone of sorts, a pinnacle in the path, but it seemed it just kept unfolding into more and more feelings, more and more pangs of tenderness pulling inside his chest. He was already falling more in love only a day after saying it out loud. _What have you done to me, Tachibana Makoto?_

The train's rhythm was familiar, Haruka did most of his navigating in Osaka by train, driving only when there was no alternative or too many things to carry. Unlike on the platform, touching hands was too intimate, too public, but their knees bumped together, swaying as one with the flow of the tracks beneath them. He shook his head, Tottori had never been on the list of visiting spots. "It sounds like something out of a movie," Haruka mused, imagining Makoto perched upon the hump of a dromedary camel, long legs folded up and hanging on to keep his balance. The thought was amusing enough to bring a small smile to his lips. "When it's warm, we'll go. There are so many things I want to do when it's warm." Going to the ocean was highest on the list, but Haruka left it unspoken. "Have popsicles. The little shops here only sell them in the summer." In Osaka there were a few conbini where one could buy popsicles all the time, but most of them were too much to eat by himself.

"There's also....a crab museum? I think I read about it. You can play with the crabs?" It went without saying that anything involving water sparked Haruka's interest, though he was jammers-less today; they wouldn't fit right under the skinny pants and Rin insisted having a nicely-displayed ass was more important than trying to hop into the crab tanks. Haruka had his doubts, but he'd try Rin's advice to the hilt today.

 

 

"Mmm, things like swimming in the ocean?" Makoto asked, his smile widening half because he knew that's what Haru was thinking and half because of Haru's small smile. Those minute inflections in his expression were so very beautiful to witness.

But Haru was right - there was more than just visiting sand dunes and riding camels that Makoto wanted to do with Haru when the weather allowed. Fireworks, festivals -- everything Iwatobi and the surrounding areas had to offer.

"Crab museum?" Makoto glanced down at Haru, blinking wide-eyed. "You mean...you get to touch them? The crabs?" Makoto couldn't even imagine a better place to go; it involved local history, hands on exhibits, and animals. Already he was trying not to overexcite himself, but with things that involved animals, he really was still a child at heart. "I bet you'd like it because you can put your hands in the water, ne?" It wasn't so much a guess as an assumption gleaned from Haru's sincere love of water. "It sounds fun! We should definitely make time."

Casually, Makoto bumped his knee purposely (against the flow of the train car's jostle) against Haru's, glancing aside as he did so as if he hadn't done a thing at all.

"We'll do the Watanabe first and save the crab museum for after lunch. Tottori is known for its fish. I bet we could find something with plenty of saba options on the menu."

 

 

The last time Haruka heard the word 'ocean' in Makoto's voice, it had trembled, weighed down with pain as deep as its name, and he'd sworn to hide the word away in the depths of his own mouth, as breath in his lungs that would never escape. That didn't mean he wouldn't think about it - dream about it, fantasize about it, _crave_ it - but that was a word that had the power to wound Makoto. A word Haruka would keep to himself.

A word Makoto spoke with tease and lightness in his voice, smiling with the brightness of sunrise over water, none of the fear and anxiety to be seen. Haruka felt something hiccup inside his chest, his own eyes wide with surprise, delight, and a faint, fragile hope. Makoto reached inside him without hesitating, plucking out the word Haruka had hidden like it was the pearl of Ariel's voice, gifting it back to him with all the gentleness in his soul. Haruka ducked his head, a little embarrassed that Makoto had seen through his thoughts so easily and a little overwhelmed that Makoto would try to give him something that he feared. It - and all these new, tumultuous, wonderful feelings - was almost too much to absorb at once.

"Mmm," he replied, digging his phone out of his coat pocket and opening up to the site he had bookmarked. "Kanikkokan," Haruka said, holding the phone so Makoto could see. Makoto's eyes seemed brighter, _greener_ with his glasses on, uncomfortably so in that way that made Haruka's skin feel too tight, the good kind of too tight. "It's geared at kids," he continued, holding down the heat from his face by will alone, "but nothing on the website says it's _only_ for them." He looked away again; Makoto's eyes were so _honest_ sometimes, like staring at the sun, blinding in their brilliance.

Makoto's knee nudged against Haruka's and he glanced up, Makoto's gaze somewhere down the line of the train car but a faint hint of pink decorating the top of his ear. Haruka smiled, nudging him back with the same casual grace. "I'm good with most anything. I had saba for breakfast, so maybe something different?"

The sway and noise of the train filled the comfortable silence, Makoto pointing out places and Haruka asking quiet questions. The train traveled through a pass in the mountains and was farther inland than the highway between Iwatobi and Tottori, showing different terrain. The mountains looked especially beautiful.

When the train emerged from the pass, the first station after that was Tottori. Because the museum was on the east side of the river, this was their stop. The museum was a little over three and a half kilometers from the station, a bit of a daunting distance but Haruka refused to slow them down. He pulled the scarf tighter around his face before they left the station, pleased when the cold air didn't have much effect. "So what sort of training is required to become a firefighter?" he asked, hands deep in his pockets as he walked alongside Makoto.

 

 

"Kanikkokan," Makoto repeated with reverence, leaning in to share Haru's phone screen. "If it's fun, I'll have to come back with the twins. Ran and Ren love coming into the city. And if they can get their hands dirty, even better."

The train came to a stop at Tottori Station, and Makoto led the way off the train, taking smaller steps than usual but nothing that would draw attention to his slowed pace; the last thing he wanted was for Haru to feel embarrassed. After all, it wasn't Haru's fault he was still recovering.

"Watanabe is this way," Makoto said, fluffing his scarf around his neck as well. The breeze out here was a little warmer, but it still cut across his face with a reminder that it was still winter. "When I came here with my parents, it was a long time ago, but I was so excited I can still remember the way we walked. They made it a full day, so we went to the sand dunes, then the museum, and dinner overlooking the sea. I think I fell asleep on the way home."

They walked a little, and Haru's voice was muffled and nearly stolen away with the wind, but Makoto heard him even so.

"Ah, it's very rigorous, actually!" he said, slowing his pace a bit more casually, as he thought about it. "In high school, I thought I'd go into coaching or maybe general education, since I liked doing part-time work at Iwatobi SC, but I had an opportunity to do some volunteer work for the Iwatobi Fire Station, and... I don't know, my plans just changed." He smiled as he remembered that first day, all of the men there so much bigger and stronger and more knowledgeable than him. Instead of being intimidated by it, it had inspired him. He wanted to be like those men. He wanted to save lives, to help the community, to be a strong and capable man.

"I already had CPR training from ITSC, and I was in pretty good shape, because I liked sports, so that sort of thing came more naturally to me. Although I did take additional first aid and EMT certification classes, and that was before I enrolled in university to get my degree in Global Fire Science." He sighed. "That was the hardest part, honestly. There was a lot to learn. I was really lucky that the Iwatobi station needed help, so I could volunteer and do ride-alongs while I worked towards my degree. Even though you can read about all the technology in books and learn it well enough, there's nothing like practical experience. Especially to get a feel for the high stress of the job when it's busy."

They had already walked several blocks, but Makoto only then realized he'd sort of talked Haru's ear off.

"What about for becoming a chef? Did you go to culinary school?" He smiled down at Haru. "Or were you gifted with your talent at birth?"

 

 

Walking along, the cadence of Makoto's memories filling the space between them, Haruka's mouth curled in contentment behind his scarf. He could just picture a tiny Makoto, eyes bright and cheeks flushed, holding each of his parent's hands and swinging them in excitement as they hurried along this very path. Haruka wasn't an overly sentimental person, but the mental image was too charming to resist. What would it have been like to know Makoto when they were both small? To walk places hand in hand with him?

He knew there was a lot more involved in firefighting than being strong enough to lift people like they were made of air and heft large hoses, but Haruka hadn't realized there was so much involved, including university study. His opinion of Makoto rose yet again, now imagining him in those glasses, studying well into the night to learn everything he needed to know to be the best, most competent firefighter possible. Riding along with that same puppy-eagerness, seeing the hard work involved and challenging himself to do his best. Compared to Makoto, his own reasons for his career path seemed....a little lazy.

A subtle shadow fell over Haruka's eyes, shuttering them with thoughtful blankness. Even though Makoto referred to a different sort of talent, that was a word he'd heard too many times in his life, always with strings and obligations and a heavy weight he just didn't feel able to carry. "Do you remember," Haruka began after a long moment of walking in silence, trying to organize his words and thoughts, "when you asked me if I ever thought about going pro in swimming?" Had that only been four days ago? It felt much longer than that. "And I couldn't really answer you then?"  
  
Haruka sighed, the sound quiet and a little wistful. "The truth is, I had two friends - probably my only two friends - who very much wanted me to go pro...with them. I've known them since elementary school, and Rin and Yamazaki both have the talent and the ambition necessary to make it in competitive swimming. Their biggest competition is each other, and they always make the other better. Part of me wanted to go pro, but only so I could stay with them and we could keep swimming together." He wasn't quite sure how to articulate into words the complicated, precious feelings of _swimming together_ , because it never had a thing to do with winning or losing for Haruka. Yes, winning made Rin and Yamazaki (and whoever filled the other leg in their relays) happy, but it was the camaraderie, the belonging, the feelings Haruka never found anywhere but in the water, _with them_ , that kept him in the anchor leg.  
  
Haruka turned his head, wishing the ocean was there instead of the houses and buildings they passed. His thoughts often felt too big and cumbersome without the water to cleanse them, to shape them down into understandable pieces, to take them out of the language inside his head and translate them into vernacular Japanese. "But, a bigger part of me didn't want anything to do with it, because I don't feel the same about swimming as they do. I love being in the water, but I don't love competing and I couldn't pretend I do, even for them. We fought a lot about it, Rin doesn't like it when he doesn't get his way and he's so bossy and forceful about it. The two of them kept saying it was a waste of my talent not to try and I was throwing away my future." Haruka looked away from Makoto as his face clouded over, faint and subtle and easy to miss. "I told them I didn't have a future or a dream and to leave me alone about it. So, after graduation...they left."

The words lingered in the air with the distant ocean breeze, solemn and salty. "I did it again," Haruka's voice was subdued, apologetic in his own way. "I answered things out of order." His shoulders lifted in a sigh as they paused in their walk to let a car pass on the street before they crossed. The car's left taillight was out, the tire slightly flat; it looked as unbalanced as he felt. Even with those memories three years in the past and renewed communication with his friends now, telling Makoto about it left Haruka feeling a little deflated.  
  
The wind at their backs fluttered the ends of Haruka's scarf forward over one shoulder, nearly hiding his face until he smoothed it down. "I weighed my options as far as what to do," he said, voice soft and precise, "but the only thing that sounded appealing was culinary school, and I picked Tsuji Gakuen in Osaka. Two years of culinary, one year of confectionary." Haruka might have no taste for sugar, but creating things in it was a whole different matter. It became almost like painting or drawing for him, except there was no burden of communicating ideas and concepts with it. It was simply about taste and presentation. "I don't know if you could label it a dream or anything like that; I never really had something I wanted to do, I just wanted to swim. But I like to cook and I've found I really enjoy it. I graduated right before my grandmother died, before I had a chance to look for a job in Osaka I was on my way to Iwatobi because she left me the house. Kawamura-san hired me, and you know most of the rest already."

 

 

 

Makoto knew that Haru was a many of precious few words, so have the silence suddenly filled with his voice was an awing experience. It was a little deeper than he'd thought it would be, when he'd first met Haru, but it suited him perfectly the more Makoto heard it. His tone could be misconstrued as bored or annoyed, but Makoto understood it wasn't either of those things. He heard it differently; Haru just probably wasn't used to speaking this much. He could imagine that at the cafe, it was easier to gesture or snap orders to get the point across in such a hectic environment.

But Haru's words were sad, in a way. To love swimming so much and be so good at it, there were so many people who would give anything just to have that kind of choice. But in a way, Makoto understood. It was a lot to do with pressure, and especially at that sort of age, feeling weighed down with such things could truly break someone.

"There is no correct order," Makoto said, smiling as he took a chance and touched the crook of Haru's elbow, rubbing briefly before he pulled his hand back. No one knew them here in Tottori, but Makoto didn't want to embarrass Haru or get either of them in trouble, so he'd keep his touched brief. "Anyway, if you like to cook and you're good at it - _very_ good in my personally biased opinion! - then why can't that be a dream? Or why do you have to only have one dream? You're very good with your art, an excellent chef, a baker, a swimmer." Makoto shrugged. "You didn't go pro with swimming, because it wasn't the same as swimming because you loved it or swimming for your friends. That wouldn't have been much of a dream if you started doing it just because other people wanted you to."

They still had quite a ways to walk, so Makoto glanced at Haru once to make sure he was okay.

"You're very beautiful in the water. I can see why your friends wanted you to swim with them, but I also see why maybe you couldn't do that. Mm." Makoto scratched his cheek thoughtfully. "It was probably very tough on you." They had just crossed another intersection, and Makoto took a chance, reaching out to squeeze Haru's hand briefly as they passed under an awning and into the shadows cast by the buildings. God, he wanted to _hold_ on, to keep Haru's fingers in his, but for now, he'd reserve that level of intimacy for when they were alone. "I wish I'd have known you then. I bet we'd have swam together, ne, Haru?"

 

 

_I should just stop being surprised that he understands me,_ Haruka thought, Makoto's sudden touch startling him only because it was unexpected and far too brief, a single droplet of water to quench an oceanic thirst. He swallowed around his suddenly dry throat, conscious that he was breathing hard from the walk. His pace slowed until he stopped, Makoto's feet halting in rhythm beside his. Haruka shrugged, not looking up, noticing how Makoto's easy body language communicated his accord and acceptance; he knew Haruka needed to stop for a moment, and Haruka would be the one to move first when they started again.

Standing quietly, the wind lacing gentle fingers through Makoto's thick hair and having less success with Haruka's due to his beanie, they waited while Haruka caught his breath, the occasional car or person passing them by. "I didn't think a dream was something you could find just by looking, especially looking outside yourself. It had to be something you wanted deeply, in here." He patted an absent hand over his chest for emphasis; it hadn't tightened up on again, but his heart beat a skittering tattoo beneath his fingers as his lungs strained. "The only things I really wanted were to swim and be happy. Cooking sort of became part of being happy for me, a way out of the salaryman path. I'd have gone pro before I joined a company." The look in Haruka's eyes turned distant, as if seeing something far beyond the horizon's embrace. "Maybe that is a kind of dream after all, avoiding the office hierarchy." A slight nod towards the street signified he was ready to walk once more.

Haruka was silent for a couple of blocks, digesting the presence beside him. Makoto didn't say that he'd done the wrong thing by not going pro, that he'd squandered the talent he didn't appreciate, that he owed it to the world to swim for his country. Makoto didn't say any of the things Haruka still heard in the corridors of his memories, in Rin's tearful voice, in Yamazaki's demanding one. Makoto...listened, not only with his ears but his eyes, his posture, his whole body. He spoke back in words that accepted Haruka's choices: _That wouldn't have been much of a dream if you started doing it just because other people wanted you to._

His chest ached, but not from unhappy lungs. Haruka didn't think Makoto would ever know just how much those words meant to him, how much he had needed them. "It was hard," the words slipped out before he could bite them back, "because they were my only friends." Haruka frowned, not because of his own honesty - when he did say things they tended to be unvarnished truth - but because someone as kind and open as Makoto would certainly feel unnecessary sympathy for his admission. "I don't do well with most people," he added, hoping to clarify, hoping Makoto would keep understanding. Makoto's hand touched his, fingers tightening in silent support before flowing away, and Haruka knew his thoughts had been received: _it hurt and I was lonely, but I'm all right now._

His eyes widened above the scarf covering the lower half of his face, depthless and blue, where Makoto could see the imaginings swimming through Haruka's eyes. The beginnings of a flush crept its way onto the highest parts of his cheekbones and Haruka looked away towards the businesses they passed by. "...you...would have looked good in our nationals picture," he said at last, still not looking at Makoto, the frantic beat of his heart against his ribcage having nothing to do with the walk.

 

 

When Haru stopped, so did Makoto, like an easy echo for what Haru needed. He pretended not to notice that Haru was winded, pausing instead to take in the surroundings. This area of Tottori wasn't very beautiful or particularly lush, but there were things to see that were different from Iwatobi, and Makoto took interest in that. As soon as Haru started to walk again, so did Makoto, a ripple in his wake.

"Nationals? Wow. That would have been amazing to see! We never made it that far." He pulled out his phone and rifled through the pictures as they walked a few more blocks. He flicked through a dozen or so photos of him and his firefighter teammates, a lot of his family, a few of a pink-haired guy and a kid who must've been his little brother. Finally, he stopped to show Haru when he found the right photo, allowing Haru another moment to catch his breath under the pretense that he'd need to stop walking to see clearly.  
  
The picture was a little blurry but sweet, a sakura tree in the background and four boys huddled together with big smiles. "Here's what our team looked like. We only had four members." Makoto smiled fondly and pointed. "That's Ichiro. We weren't very close, but he was excellent at butterfly. That's Takeshi. I went to middle school with him, and he swam freestyle. And that's Nagisa." Makoto's smile softened a bit. "I knew him from the swim club I joined back in middle school. He was one of the smallest swimmers when we competed, but his arms stretched really far after the turn, like they extended somehow. I still keep in touch with them, although less often now that we're all so busy. It's hard, to think of any one of them leaving me, especially after high school when emotions are still so high."

Once Haru was done, Makoto took the phone back, hesitating as he looked over the photo once more. A few more breaths, so that Haru didn't sound as labored.

"You're still friends with...Rin and Yamazaki, you said?"

 

 

As with his art, Haruka was unsure just how to accept Makoto's praise when he didn't feel it had been earned. Nationals - the medley relay - had been a team effort, and even with a personal best in his leg of the finals they finished second, just a fingertouch away from Rin's dream of winning in high school the way they had in middle school. Still, that endless-seeming summer had been filled with nothing but swimming and memories, memories that no longer throbbed with pain to recall. Lacking clear words to say, he turned his gaze towards Makoto, meeting his eyes with a quiet harmony. It had been amazing, yes. The swimming stadium was huge and beautiful, the pool laughing with delight every time he dove in. It would have been...special to share it with Makoto as he had shared it with Rin and Yamazaki. Haruka wasn't sure he would have liked to share _Makoto_ with them - the very thought brought a defensive, territorial huff into his mind - but if the four of them had always been together the way the three were...

Makoto's picture-surfing brought Haruka out of his mental musings; curious, he took a discreet look as Makoto flipped through the pictures, wondering who some of the people were. He knew that Makoto had friends, had known that his energy attracted other people, but after having so much of that energy directed his way it felt a little sobering to see Makoto with _other people_. He sucked in a breath and gave that sudden knot of selfish and ugly inside him a good shove, hoping to push it down so far it wouldn't find its way to the surface.

Makoto placed the phone in Haruka's hands when they stopped, four boys and a beautiful tree, Each of them were flashing victory signs, arms flung around each other in camaraderie and delight. Makoto was in the middle, his downturned eyes almost closed as he smiled. "You were so tall, even then," Haruka said, hopelessly drawn to the blurry younger Makoto. He had some of the same definition of body, even in clothes, that the present Makoto did, but he was softer in so many ways. More sheltered, more naive, gentler - if that was even possible - but still _Makoto._  
  
He listened, his eyes still fastened to Makoto's younger self, as Makoto introduced his team, sucking in a surprised breath when he pointed to the breaststroke swimmer. "...I know him," Haruka mused, bright eyes and wavy hair taking him back. "Ha-something? It's been a long time, maybe about fifth grade?" His lips pursed in thought, nose scrunched as he tried to remember accurately. "He went to a swim camp in Kyoto during summer break. The three of us were there, too. He begged Rin and Yamazaki to teach him butterfly, and Rin kept calling his stroke 'grasshopper' because it was the most awkward looking butterfly." Haruka abruptly frowned and looked away; he'd promised to write, email, whatever after that camp, but at some point concluded it was too much effort. Ten-plus years of sudden guilt stuck in the throat in an odd sort of way.

Makoto's question took him a little off-guard in his swamp of inner regret, Haruka blinking to hear his friends' names on Makoto's lips. "I am now," he blurted out, eyes narrowing in self-frustration once his mind caught back up. "We didn't stop being friends exactly...I just got distant and withdrew." That word - his name - that he hated, a bitter reminder that he was fittingly monikered. "I resented them going and leaving me; they may have physically moved, but I think it was really me who walked away. I'm...not a very nice person sometimes, Makoto."

 

 

Makoto laughed. "Was I really that tall?" he asked, scratching his chin thoughtfully. "Ah, I guess I was. A friend of mine kept trying to get me to join the basketball team because of my height, but I really liked swimming. It was a difficult choice, but in the end, swimming won out. I was really glad, too, because when Nagisa came to my high school, he immediately wanted to join the team, and I would have really missed that if I'd been on the basketball court."

At the mention of knowing Nagisa, Makoto's eyes widened. "Hazuki is his surname! Hazuki Nagisa." It was unbelievable to think they'd lived so far away but somehow had a connection like this the whole time. " _Really_? Haru, that's... There are so many coincidences between us. It's amazing. Like it truly was fate that we'd meet, someday."

They started to walk again once Makoto was sure Haru had caught his breath fully. Only a few more blocks, then they'd be able to stop often in the museum. As he slid his phone back into his pocket, Makoto frowned at Haru's words. They cut him. _I'm not a very nice person sometimes_. He didn't really believe Haru; based on what Makoto had seen, Haru was a very nice person. Although that admission did make him wonder if, like so many people told him throughout his life, he was simply too trusting and optimistic.

Makoto shook the thought. "I don't believe that," he said, firmly, shaking his head. "You were scared is what it sounds like to me, and your body's fight or flight reaction happened to be flight. Anyway, if you're friends now, there's no use dwelling on a time when you might not have been as close. Where did you say they lived? I'd love to meet them someday." Makoto figured they probably missed Haru a lot, and he didn't really show his emotions freely, so even if he missed them too, maybe he didn't show it very often. It would be nice to see what Haru was like with friends.

 

 

"They're training in Australia." That reply came with no hesitation, Haruka's thoughts too busy absorbing the first part of what Makoto said: _You were scared is what it sounds like to me, and your body's fight or flight reaction happened to be flight._ It was shamefully, shamefully true, as that was also what happened at the swim club after he kissed Makoto. When scared or threatened, Haruka's first instinct was always to run away, to be alone. "My phone bill is going to be insane," he said, looking down from Makoto's curious glance. "I pretty much talked to Rin the whole time I was avoiding you. He helped me work out my words and what I wanted to say."  
  
Haruka's eyes frowned, but his voice grew strangely warm and content. "He's a stupid romantic loser, so he knew just what to do when someone's in love and clueless about it. If I hadn't called him, I'd probably still be in the ashes of the cafe thinking about how I'd wrecked everything." Almost by some tenuous unspoken agreement, neither had mentioned what transpired in those three days, but Makoto deserved some explanation. "They have a meet in Osaka in June and they're talking about moving back to spend the next year ramping up to the Olympic trials." Haruka hadn't given that a whole lot of thought, but with Makoto's gentle _I'd love to meet them someday_ lingering in the January air, June couldn't come fast enough.

They crossed one more street together, the reddish roof and large glass windows of the museum just a parking lot away. A blue sign proudly announced the location, Watanabe Art Museum in English underneath it in red. Haruka breathed a sigh of relief; while he was dressed warmly enough, he wanted to get out of the cold for a while and breathe warmer air. He pulled open the glass door for them, shoes making bright clicks on the tile as they walked into the lobby. He coughed a couple of times as the temperature change tickled his lungs, but the sticky feeling abated the longer he sucked in the temperate air.

Haruka reached into his coat pocket, pulling out his phone and snapping a couple of quick pictures. The camera on his new phone was much better than the old one, and while the extensive samurai collection housed by the Watanabe fell somewhat outside of his own artistic style, one never knew where reference material would pop up. He checked the pictures, a small sound of surprise thrumming in his throat as he went through the camera roll. "Huh. It must have imported these when you set up my phone. This is Rin and Yamazaki," he said, turning the screen so Makoto could see the picture of two almost-men in matching legskins, likely their school colors. They were probably 17 or so, one with brilliant red hair and a flashy grin, the other taller with nearly-black hair and a smug expression. Each sported a medal (the redhead silver, the other gold) and was biting the other one's in a classic Olympic parody pose. "They finished 1-2 in butterfly at Nationals our second year of high school. Yamazaki took first again the next year, but Rin didn't enter for butterfly. He was focused on free for his individual events."

After a bit of a tug of war with his pants pockets (the skinny fit allowed very little room to fish out coins), Haruka had enough for their admissions and he paid the clerk before Makoto could protest. The clerk handed him two maps and gestured towards the entrance, stating that if they required the services of a guide, one would meet them in the first foyer. "Do you think we need one?" he asked, giving one map to Makoto.

 

 

"Wow, this guy is huge," Makoto murmured, looking at Rin and Yamazaki in awe. They both looked so incredibly proud, and why shouldn't they? Nationals was a huge deal. Makoto had always wanted to go, but his times had never advanced him to that level of competition. "This one must be Yamazaki," he said, pointing at the broader, dark haired one. "His shoulders look perfect for butterfly. I bet he really cuts through the water. Like a shark." Rin, the red-haired one, was more difficult to pin down as far as style, but freestyle seemed more likely as his specialty. His shoulders were broad too, but he looked like he had power everywhere, radiating off him in waves. "If they come out, I hope you'll introduce me. Especially if Rin helped you so much to find the right words, I should thank him in person."

Makoto didn't argue about Haru paying for their admission, but he did thank him for it quietly as they made their way to the foyer. He would even it out by paying for lunch.

"Mm." Makoto looked over the map thoughtfully. "I think we could probably wander around on our own, ne?" Makoto sort of liked the idea of getting lost in the exhibits with Haru, finding their own way, even though a guide would be helpful regarding historical facts. Anyway, if this was a date, shouldn't they be alone for it?

But fate had a different plan for them. As they made their way through the foyer, Makoto looked up from his map to orient himself and saw a cluster of tourists waiting for a guide. The guide, it so happened, nudged Makoto's shoulder accidentally as he hurried past, a flurry of blond hair and a sincere, "I'm so sorry!" in a high pitched but welcoming voice. Makoto shook his head, telling the guide it was okay, no harm done, and the guide _stopped_ where he stood, feet nearly skidding against the museum floor.

"Mako-chan?"

The guide turned around to face them, and Makoto turned as well, blinking in shock at what he heard. No one called him _Mako-chan_ , except...

"Nagisa?!"

The guide's young face brightened, and indeed, it was Hazuki Nagisa, his eyes lit up and his expression practically transformed with happiness. "Ah, Mako-chan!! It's been so long!" Nagisa rushed forward, throwing his arms around Makoto's body for a hug that nearly pulled Makoto off his feet.

Nagisa hadn't changed much. Beyond an apparent growth spurt that had him at Haru's height, his slim body and smooth features were exactly the same as they'd been in high school.

"N-Nagisa," Makoto argued, but his voice was too fond for Nagisa to take it as rejection.

"Do you live in Tottori now? Or did you just come in for the day? Are you with your family? Or Kisumi-chan? Or--" Nagisa had pulled back by then, and his gaze found Haru. It took a moment, but he recognized that face. He'd never forget it, not with the sights he'd seen at camp that year. "And _Haru-chan_ too!!!!" He dove for Haru, and if Haru dodged, that was okay; Nagisa was quick enough that there was no escape. "I didn't know Mako-chan and Haru-chan were friends!"

Makoto gingerly took Nagisa's elbow, attempting to peel him off Haru. They were getting a lot of weird looks, and Makoto was sure it wasn't good for Haru's health to be squeezed like that. "A-ah, Nagisa, are you a guide here?"

Nagisa stepped back, sliding his thumbs in the armholes of his purple museum vest, and struck a pose. "Yep! Hazuki Nagisa, Historian. Or at least, that's what I hope to be! I'm still doing a lot of studying, but working here is part of my internship."

 

 

"I wouldn't be surprised if he's as tall as Phelps by now," Haruka remarked. "He started growing around 12 and never stopped. If I didn't know his parents, I'd swear he was half _gaijin_." What was he doing talking on about _Yamazaki_? If the giant jerk ever found out, Haruka would never live it down. They'd never be as close as either of them were with Rin, but Rin's gravity somehow made them two complimentary moons orbiting him. "He has more flexibility in his shoulders than most people, so he can get his arms and upper body almost totally out of the water with each stroke." It might surprise Rin and Yamazaki to know that Haruka paid attention to strokes other than free, but he'd always been very conscious of and appreciative of his friends' abilities. Yamazaki's flexibility opened him up to developing swimmer's shoulder, but with Rin to ride him on not overtraining, Haruka believed he would stay injury-free. "I'll introduce you; they are probably the people I most want to meet you." The words felt too honest and he huffed in sudden annoyance with himself. He was revealing too much of himself to Makoto; it felt overly presumptuous and needy for Haruka to be this open, regardless of his level of comfort with Makoto, regardless of how much he longed to draw him in.

Haruka unfolded his own map, in agreement with Makoto about finding their own way. The armor gallery was undoubtedly the most popular one, so maybe they should start with the calligraphy. Calligraphy always made him think of Gou, Rin's younger sister, and her motivational banners that she made for the swim team. Ruminating in his memories, a sudden rush of air and an ungainly 'oomph' from Makoto yanked him back to the present. Haruka's eyes widened, his mouth frozen in a half-open silent protest as a blond museum guide thoroughly manhandled the fireman.

Nagisa? As in Hazuki Nagisa? Rin used to rattle on about some sort of literary myth involving summoning a demon by speaking its name, Haruka thought, but he'd never seen something similar happen in reality. That implied he was comparing Nagisa to a demon, he realized; even Haruka knew that was unkind and uncalled for. Makoto looked surprised but not uncomfortable and that was enough for Haruka. The tiny, enthusiastic boy he remembered was instead a lanky, willowy match for his height, bubbling with energy and delight. Haruka was content to remain to one side while Makoto reunited with his friend, they knew each other much better after all.

Nagisa turned when he realized Makoto wasn't alone, his lips pursing up and berry-pink eyes searching Haruka, trying to place him. Haruka stared back, expression neutral, the faintest whicker of challenge touching the corners of his eyes. Nagisa didn't fail to deliver, his sunshine face splitting in a grin as he launched himself at Haruka. It wasn't in Haruka's nature to invite affection (except just recently and only from Makoto) but he'd always had a soft spot for Nagisa despite their brief acquaintance. At camp, he'd been chasing after the three of them, all stronger swimmers than he, but Nagisa had never been deterred or discouraged. He'd given it his all, even with his awkward grasshopper butterfly, and they'd invited him to swim with them for the camp relay. Thoroughly wrapped up in the folds of a Nagisa-hug, Haruka relaxed, making no move to escape or block it. "You grew," he said, succinct and to the point. "It's been a while, Nagisa."

Makoto was kind enough to initiate the Nagisa-disengagement protocol, though Haruka found himself watching Nagisa with a sidelong glance to be certain his feelings were not hurt. He growled at himself for acting more like he was twelve than twenty-two, tucking his hands into his coat pocket. Nagisa was studying history? That seemed sort of an odd fit, but the museum guide persona came as naturally to him as breathing. Gregarious, talkative and outgoing, Nagisa always put forth just the right words to pave the way, Haruka thought. He envied his ease with speaking and his effortless charm; Haruka could never do that.

He decided to defer to Makoto to supply any particulars as to their connection, glancing back down to the map. Should they join the group Nagisa was leading? Or catch up with him at some point later in their visit? Haruka fixed Makoto with a quizzical look, asking the questions with no words. It didn't particularly matter to him, so Makoto could decide.

 

 

" _Too_ long," Nagisa complained, huffing a little. He had forgotten all about Haru promising to write, so he didn't mean anything but it, and that showed as he gave Haru a wink to show he was just teasing.

"We met...recently," Makoto said. He wasn't sure what Haru was comfortable with as far as their relationship went, so he kept the explanation simple. "Haru is actually a chef in Iwatobi now."

"A chef?" Nagisa asked, pouting. "You're not a swimmer? I heard Rin and Sou-chan went abroad to train. I thought for sure you'd be there with them." As usual, Nagisa didn't mean anything by his statement: he just didn't have much of a filter on his thoughts as they passed through his head. "Although you did make really good s'mores at camp..."

Makoto laughed gently. "Haru is a wonderful chef. And baker, actually." About to dive into the story, Makoto noticed the people waiting for Nagisa looked a little impatient. "Ah, Nagisa. Maybe we can catch up after your tour?"

Nagisa glanced back at the patrons waiting and flushed a bit. "Gomen! I will be right there!" he called. Turning back to Haruka and Makoto, he reached for their hands, one in each of his. "You have to join me for the tour. This museum is so amazing, and you'll get a taste for all of it with me! Including some facts you can't get from the program or placards." Nagisa tugged them both forward before Makoto could answer. Once Nagisa let go and moved to the front of the group to begin his announcements, Makoto turned to Haru and leaned down to his ear.

"Is this okay, Haru?" Makoto looked a little worried. He didn't want this to go badly. "We can hang back a little from the rest of the group."

"Okay!" Nagisa said. "We're going to start in the armor gallery, which is by far our most popular attraction here at the Watanabe Museum. It may be crowded, but we have priority access."

Nagisa led the group forward and through the hallways, talking with some of the patrons in front who were already peppering him with questions about the museum's age and where the best places to eat were nearby and whether such and such period really had such intricate armor etchings. Nagisa fielded the questions with ease. It relaxed Makoto, actually, being able to enjoy Haru's company without worrying where they were going or if they'd miss something. Nagisa led; and he and Haru followed.

 

 

"I'll always be a swimmer," Haruka said, his voice soft as velvet, no small amount of contentment in it. "I just didn't want to do it as a job. Rin and Yamazaki are more suited for that sort of attention and to represent Japan in the bigger world. I'm happier in Iwatobi," he added, the faintest of smiles brushing his lips.

The smile faded as the whirlwind that was Hazuki Nagisa enveloped them, dragging Makoto and Haruka bodily into the tour group before taking over with his unstoppable energy. Makoto's breath was hot, tickling against Haruka's ear and his fingers itched to rub those shivery spots. "I don't mind," he replied, blue eyes meeting Makoto's. It might hurt Nagisa's feelings if they were to leave and that was unnecessary. Besides, there was something fascinating about seeing Nagisa in his element, both like and unlike the boy he remembered.

The group moved steadily but in no great hurry, meaning Haruka had opportunities to pause and catch his breath without being left behind. The doctor had been correct and the more walking and activity he undertook, the easier it became, but pushing himself left him winded and light-headed. The warmer air kept him from coughing, thankfully, but he still fought against the limitations of his endurance.  
  
The Watanabe had a large variety of armor, the displays bringing the early Showa era to brilliant life. Amazing that a single doctor had begun the collection that became the Watanabe. The museum was different from most in that as much as was feasible, it encouraged people to touch and feel, to get close with the historical items. "I wish I'd brought a sketchbook," Haruka mused, snapping a few more pictures with his phone. "This isn't even the type of things I would normally draw, but it pulls you in."

From the armor the group wandered towards the tapestries and screens and woodblock exhibits. These prompted fewer questions and gave more chances for everyone to explore or simply take in the pictures, the carefully woven scenes and the painstakingly painted screens. The sheer time it would take to complete one, let alone the multiples shown in the exhibit, gave Haruka pause as he stood before one intricate screen set off in a slight alcove. His mother's family - Sanada - had lived in or near Iwatobi for the better part of two hundred years; had some ancestral Sanada hands been responsible for mixing the ink or spinning the threads?

Makoto stepped beside him and their shoulders touched, wool against leather, heat brushing heat. This seemed more intimate than even their hand-holding at the train station or the shrine; this was in someplace unfamiliar, around people they did not know, and unintended as support or aid. This was touch for touch's sake, for communication, for reassurance. Makoto was so beautiful in profile, Haruka thought as he discreetly drank him in, the angles of his cheekbones sharper, his firm chin stronger, his black eyeglasses framing eyes green as glass. In the quiet shelter of a shadow, Haruka rubbed the flat of his cheek against Makoto's shoulder once, the heady caress of leather and faint cologne filling his nose.

 

 

 

Makoto moved slowly, keeping to his promise to stay a little behind the group. In fact, he walked slower than Haru did, and he did it on purpose. He also made sure to take frequent breaks, stopping to look at this or that piece of armor or art, to make sure Haru had plenty of opportunities to catch his breath. He wasn't coughing, but Makoto could hear the wheeze in his lungs every now and then. This was probably very taxing on him.

Stepping up beside Haru at one of the screens, he leaned in to get a better look. Up close, all the intricacies were even more exquisite. Makoto wasn't an overly creative person, but this was beyond creative. Beyond talented. It was amazing.

Just as he was about to ask Haru about a detail, he felt Haru's cheek nuzzle against his shoulder. Heat crept into his ears first, then along the lower part of his jaw. It warmed him all over, just being near Haru, but that affectionate, purposeful touch clenched his heart too. Makoto leaned down, as if to speak in a hushed tone about the exhibit to Haru, but instead chuckled against the shell of his ear and gently nudged his shoulder against Haru's.

He felt giddy, like he was a teenager again, heart in his throat and stomach dropping out at even the most innocent of touches.

The tour wound up lasting around two hours. They covered nearly every inch of the museum, and though he knew it was taxing for Haru, Makoto didn't hear him complain even once. As they rounded artifacts or grouped in close to see details, Makoto occasionally touched his long fingers to Haru's, a quiet secret in the shadows. He made sure to lean down and speak close to Haru when he wanted to talk, not just because he liked the look on Haru's face when his breath tickled his skin but also to make it easier on Haru's throat. From such a close distance, Haru shouldn't need to raise his voice at all.

"What did you think?" Nagisa asked, once the tour was over. "It's a really neat place, isn't it?"

"It's beautiful," Makoto said, taking a seat at the closest bench under the guise of opening his map to look at all the areas they'd visited. Really, it was in the hopes that Haru would sit too.

"Are you both staying in the city for a while? I get a lunch break, and I'd love to catch up! I still can't believe you two are friends. It makes me want to swim again!"

 

 

 

Tachibana Makoto was a puzzle that Haruka enjoyed unwrapping. He went from flustered to flirty in the span of a breath, tickling him with his exhaled words and touching him with his fingertips. Everything inside Haruka felt fluttery and light, breathless over and apart from exertion. It hadn't escaped his notice that Makoto stopped far more than he needed to today, but he did it so subtly it was hard to mind overmuch or feel coddled. Loath as Haruka was to admit he needed the breaks, he genuinely needed them, and the momentary sojourns on benches and leans against the walls had kept him from fizzling out or getting too tired. Even while they were resting their feet, Makoto stayed close, his delicate voice murmuring soft questions or pointing out a particular piece.  
  
Nagisa's commentary added a lot to the experience as well; history had never been a top subject of Haruka's but history through Nagisa's rosy lens was a dense and fascinating journey. Despite being in the tour group, the time with Makoto still felt like a date, a bubble enclosing the two of them with a gentle, lilting soundtrack of educational facts and trivia. This job suited Nagisa very well, Haruka thought. Makoto had settled on a bench, brow furrowing as he unfurled his map, squinting at it despite his glasses. The waves of Tachibana presence licked at his ankles, whispering for him to join Makoto, and he saw no reason to steel his spine against them. "It's a beautiful museum, and you made it a great experience. You've really worked hard, Nagisa," Haruka said, sitting beside Makoto. "We had planned to go over to the crab museum later." He didn't particularly mind if Nagisa joined them for lunch; catching up was much easier in person, especially if Makoto was there to field more of the questions. The phone left far more room for misinterpretation in Haruka's experience, and Nagisa was someone who had known Makoto in high school and would surely tell stories as entertaining as his historical tidbits.

Curious, Haruka's gaze turned fully to Makoto, for Nagisa had mentioned the magic word. Should they invite him to the event at ITSC next month? Or to come for open swim some time? Part of him wanted to keep swimming as something ending in 'with Makoto' for a while, but seeing him, having talked so recently to Rin and Sousuke (he could occasionally call him Sousuke in his thoughts, but he'd be damned if he'd say it to his face)...the urge to swim for and swim with his friends burned with longing in his chest. "You should swim," Haruka said at last, defaulting back to ambiguity. "Where do you suggest for lunch?"

 

 

"Hehe, that's just like you, Haru-chan," Nagisa hummed. He then, smoothed his hair down a bit and did his best impression of Haru as a child: " _You should swim._ " Laughing, he took a seat beside Haru. "You always used to say that." Despite all his shortcomings when social etiquette was involved, Haru had always been so nice and warm and motivational for Nagisa. "Although I think back then you would say, _You should swim the way you want_. Or _Respect the water's decisions_."

Makoto laughed too, putting his map away to glance at Haru. "I wish I'd have known Haru back then, too."

"Mm! He was the only one who really thought I could swim on the relay team with them at camp. I know Rin-chan and Sou-chan were only being nice. Ne, but let's see, there are so many good places to eat! Do you still like saba, Haru-chan?"

The smile on Makoto's face widened a little knowingly. He let his knee brush Haru's.

"There's an udon place a few blocks away that I like, but um, if you want something different... um... I'm afraid I don't know too many quiet places." Nagisa tapped his cheek thoughtfully. "But, hmm... Let me ask! I'll find a real touristy place for us! Maybe somewhere with sweets for Mako-chan and !"

Nagisa left the two of them on the bench. Makoto nudged Haru's leg again.

"Nagisa hasn't changed much," he mused.

 

 

Haruka turned his head from Nagisa's impersonation and Makoto's encouragement, a smidge of sullen on his face as it heated. He'd made more peace recently with childhood, but something about the idea of Makoto knowing him then dropped him into a deep well of self-consciousness. Even through the litany of coincidences and crossed paths and speculative alternate timelines, Haruka had his doubts that his tunnel-visioned water-obsessed younger self would have been a good friend to soft-hearted, ocean-fearing Makoto. Maybe it was better that they'd met as adults.  
  
Just as Haruka felt he'd mastered his hot cheeks, Nagisa's needless praise and Makoto's playful knee-nudging turned the flames up to high. Pride and stubbornness snubbed them both, but neither needed an answer; to know Nanase Haruka was to forever conflate him and his favorite food. Udon wouldn't be a bad choice but he wasn't about to speak up, not with his body's blood supply on full display. He avoided both of their gazes until Nagisa flurried away for a recommendation.

He huffed a small sigh, forcing himself to relax, to keep his hands to himself. It wasn't that Haruka disliked Makoto flirting with him, but rather that it _did things_ to him, made him want to flirt back, to touch and do in public things that were far more private. He wanted to rest his hand on Makoto's denim-covered knee as it touched his again. To take Makoto's jacket in both hands and pull him close enough to kiss....

Makoto's voice pierced his awareness and Haruka looked up sharply, guilt coloring the edges of his eyes; his imagination had strayed far beyond kissing. "Mmm," he agreed, making a tentative return of the nudge. "He's always open but he doesn't say much," Haruka added, the thoughts forming into words in his distraction. "It's good," he continued, "having a bit of a break with you." Despite all the blushing and racing heart, indulging in the time to just sit with Makoto did wonders to recharge him. By the time Nagisa returned, Haruka felt closer to refreshed than he had all day...and hungry.

 

 

"It is," Makoto agreed. He let that be all that was said between them for a little while, just enjoying spending time with Haru, feeling their legs and shoulders brush. Even if Nagisa would be joining them for lunch, it wouldn't demote this as a date. They had the rest of the day together, after all. And every day Haru wanted him thereafter, too. Makoto didn't think he could ever get tired of seeing Haru's face.

After a few minutes, Nagisa returned. "Okay, everyone says the fish is best at Machi Maruyama, and I always get daifuku there, so I think it's a winner!"

"Is it close?" Makoto asked.

"Right across the street. They shouldn't be too busy this time of year."

Makoto nodded and stood up, offering his hand to help Haru without thinking. Like the nuzzle and all those secret touches, it didn't escape Nagisa's attention, but that didn't show in his expression.

"So, Haru-chan, you do still swim? Just not professionally? You were always so fast in the water. Like a bullet."

"He still is," Makoto said, laughing gently at the memory of seeing Haru launch himself into the pool.

Outside, it had warmed up a bit, and the sun was out, sneaking in and out of clouds. Machi Maruyama wasn't a far walk at all, and though it was a small cafe, there was plenty of seating and a menu full of different kinds of locally-caught fish, udon, and a case full of desserts, including the daifuku Nagisa had mentioned.

They found a table by a window and Makoto made sure Haru was furthest from the door to keep the warmth in.

"I'll order this time," Makoto said. "What do you want to try, Haru?"

"Mmmm they have ichigo daifuku todaaaay," Nagisa hummed, already eying the pink, strawberry-filled mochi.

 

 

 

Haruka put his hand in Makoto's, unaware of just how much his eyes softened when he looked up at him. He wanted to keep the warmth of Makoto's hand in his, reluctantly letting it go and tucking it into his coat pocket. There, his fingers worried back and forth against each other, trying to recapture and savor the feeling of Makoto that still clung to their tips.  
  
He fell into easy step with both Makoto and Nagisa, noticing that they bracketed him on either side. Rather than feeling contained, though, their presence brought comfort. He tucked his scarf up around his face as they left the museum, pleased that it wasn't as cold now. "I always swim," Haruka said, voice soft and a bit muffled through the wool. "I like to be in the water," he added, the glow in Makoto's eyes bringing back his earlier self-consciousness. "I'm not that fast now."

Any explanations as to why he wasn't that fast could come with food, Haruka taking the chair Makoto offered. "There's a smoked saba udon with eggplant," he said, thinking that sounded very appetizing. "And tea." Nagisa looked ready to press his face against the glass display case for the daifuku; perhaps he should have that first and real food in a few minutes.

 

 

 

Nagisa definitely ordered his food in a way that wasn't the norm: he had three strawberry filled mochi in a bag when he returned to the table, already biting into one as he took a seat across from Haru. In his haste for sweets, he'd forgotten to grab a drink, which Makoto noticed, buying an extra tea for him while he ordered lunch for he and Haru.

"Do you want to try some?" Nagisa asked Haru, holding out the bag in offering. He knew Haru hadn't been very interested in sweets when they were kids, but times may have changed. "You can try it while you tell me how you and Mako-chan met."

Since Makoto was still up at the register ordering, Haru would have to speak. At least until Makoto returned, and by the concerned glance he gave Haru from the counter, that might not be very long. If Haru didn't want to speak, Makoto would do it for him.

 

 

Haruka shook his head, not willing to cram that much sugar into his mouth. "I'm fine, thanks," he replied, unwinding his scarf to lazily drape around his neck. "I'm good at making sweet things, but I still don't eat many." He pulled in a deep breath and exhaled, leaning back into a more casual pose in his chair. "But I'll tell you anyways." A hint of a crooked smile curved one corner of Haruka's mouth. "I came to the city after my grandmother died, she left her house to me. It turned out I needed to stay a while to get the transfer of the property approved, so I got a job in a cafe in Iwatobi. The firehouse likes the food and they ordered from us many times. I saw Makoto but I never got to meet him; I was always busy, and he always was in a hurry to get the food back for everyone, but I knew his name: Tachibana. So whenever they'd order I'd draw an orange tree on his boxes. It was kind of silly, but I'm not very good at talking to people."

Somehow, it was far easier to relate everything to Nagisa than to Rin; granted, he wasn't trying to tell everything through panic and emotion now, but even though Nagisa had a similar restless energy to Rin's, it didn't agitate Haruka or stir him up. It soothed, like lying out beneath the clouds on a warm day and just watching them drift by. "I don't know if we would have met if things had stayed the same, but in December the cafe caught on fire when I was the only one there. Makoto saved me. I had some burns and smoke inhalation, I really couldn't talk at all for about a month. I'm still getting used to how it changed my voice, and it will be a while before my lungs completely heal, but...that's how we met."

Haruka crossed his legs as best he could do in skinny pants, shifting until it was about 30% comfortable. "How did you become a historian? At camp you wanted to be a penguin keeper or a travel guide or an astronaut or a mecha pilot. Preferably all of the above," Haruka added, face deadpan but voice warm.

 

 

"Waaah, Haru-chan, that's so romantic!!" Nagisa cried, but he somehow managed to keep his vocal range limited to their table and maybe one or two behind them but not the entire cafe.

Makoto happened to arrive back at the table at that point, and he blinked, looking between them as he set Haru's tea in front of him, one in front of Nagisa, and one for himself. "Ne, what's romantic?"

"The way you raced into the burning cafe and carried Haru from it without even knowing him and then grew close even though he couldn't speak!" It was amazing what Nagisa could take away from a story when very few details had been released. Either that, or his imagination was just running away from him like usual. But he could totally picture Makoto cradling Haru in his strong arms, sweat pouring down his face, smoke and fire around them. "It's like a manga!!"

Makoto laughed, taking a seat beside Haru and grinning sidelong at him. "So you told our story."

"Mako-chaaaaaan has to tell it too!"

Still laughing, Makoto tried to get his version out. It was a bit longer, but it had included details that Haru's story couldn't possibly contain, such as: "I didn't know his name, but I saved all the drawings he put in our take-out bags, and I made excuses to be the one to pick up food so I could try and talk to him", to which Nagisa interjected, "Mako-chan is so sneaky!" and Makoto blushed, murmuring, "Well..." and moving quickly to the next part, because he could only see in hindsight how embarrassing it really was.

"You could only talk with a white-board, and yet you still understood him," Nagisa said, his mouth a little pink from finishing off two of the mochi already. "You two are amazing. I'm so happy for you both." He finally circled around to Haru's question with a laugh, "I was always best in history, so it just kind of came naturally. And I like learning when there are stories behind things. Also, I get to travel! And talk to people all day and make friends. It's a really fun job."

"You're perfectly suited for it, Nagisa."

Makoto and Haru's food arrived, and Nagisa pouted. "Ah, I should have ordered with you, Mako-chan..."

Makoto winked. The server set down an additional bowl of udon: unlike the identical ones Makoto and Haru got, Nagisa's was filled with aburaage, the sweetest thing Makoto could spot on the menu. "I thought those daifuku might not fill you up."

"Itadakimasu," Nagisa said happily, clapping his hands. "I'll pay you back!"

 

 

Haruka blinked, stunned into actual silence rather than his normal reticence. How had Nagisa assembled or interpreted or flat-out embellished the actual truth out of the limited information he'd offered? Not once did he mention anything about falling in love or romance, but Nagisa seemed to have reproduced an entire picture out of thin air and a couple of dust motes. Fascinated, Haruka stared back at him, wondering if his fluffy-haired wonder-powers could unlock puzzles hand in hand and Christmas cake in the hospital cafeteria. He would be truly impressed then.

Makoto put a cup of deliciously warm tea down in front of him and Haruka curled his long, thin fingers around it, letting the heat seep in through his skin. The sulky glare he gave Makoto said it all: _I didn't tell him those sorts of things!_ Nagisa seemed to be quite capable of drawing correct conclusions with minimal information. Maybe he should be a detective instead of a historian.

In truth, it wasn't Nagisa knowing that annoyed Haruka; he didn't feel that anything he shared with Makoto was something to hide or merit shame (except perhaps what happened last night, and it fell into 'something to hide' because it belonged only to them. Nothing, _nothing_ about that experience was in the same prefecture as shame.). It was...a strange discomfort that anyone else but Makoto could know so much about him from so few words. That, like last night, was something he wanted only to share with Makoto, something special that bound the two of them together from the first awkward introduction in the hospital.

That discomfort didn't make it any less fascinating to hear about the times before they met through Makoto's eyes. Haruka had no idea Makoto kept any of the drawings or deliberately sought to pick up the food. He sipped at the tea, remembering his own tendency to gaze out at the dining room after the fireman had gone, chest tight with a longing lacking any name but _Tachibana_. He seemed so naive in his memories to have not recognized his feelings, until Haruka realized that only a week ago he still hadn't recognized them. "It sounds hard, but Makoto made it easy for me. Most of the time, he knew what I meant without any words." Something about Nagisa's easy, matter-of-fact acceptance relaxed Haruka quite a bit, even if he wondered why Nagisa seemed unsurprised.

The udon that arrived smelled delicious, the smoked saba already making Haruka's mouth water. "Do you work only with this museum?" he asked, snapping his chopsticks apart and murmuring "itadakimasu" under his breath. In addition to smoked saba and Japanese eggplant, the dish contained large chunks of butternut pumpkin, all but melting on his tongue. He chewed without haste, dissecting the flavors on his tongue. This would be a good dish to add at the Cat when it reopened, and he had time to perfect it. The shiso leaves on it added a brilliant pop of purple color, pleasing to the eye and harmonizing with the rest of the dish. Just a pinch more ginger than this chef used....

 

 

"Right now, I'm traveling around a lot," Nagisa said, trying not to talk with a mouthful of noodles and sweet tofu, but he was so excited to talk to his old friends that all thought of etiquette flew out the window. "So I don't have a set museum - I go where I'm needed, basically. I spend a lot of time at the sand dunes when I get to pick - the museum there is very small, but it's so amazing what kind of art people can do with just sand! And I get to talk about the history of the dunes and meet really interesting people. You two should definitely go if you haven't yet."

"I haven't been for a long time," Makoto said, making sure to swallow his food first before speaking. "Haru's never seen it, so we'll go sometime."

"Mm, let me know before you do. Maybe I can make it even more special." Nagisa grinned knowingly, like he'd just thought of the perfect thing, and though it made Makoto blush, he also felt invigorated by Nagisa's easy acceptance. Either Nagisa knew or he was just really happy that Haru and he were friends.

Nagisa finally quieted a bit to finish the majority of his lunch, but it didn't take long before he was talking again.

"I'm really glad I came to the museum this month, or I'd never have reunited with you two! You both have to promise to keep in touch. And I want to see Haru-chan swim again!"

Makoto smiled. "There's an event next month at the Swim Club. Maybe you can join us?"

"Waah! I'd get to swim with Mako-chan and Haru-chan??"

"Ran and Ren will be there too, and I think Kisumi is bringing Hayato."

"I will definitely be there, Mako-chan!! You can count on me!" As if it helped cement the idea, Nagisa vigorously ate the rest of his udon.

 

 

 

Haruka listened, paying attention to the flow of conversation but far more focused on his lunch. While all the walking was tiring, it also made him rather hungry. It didn't hurt that the food was delicious. He nodded in agreement, poking more saba into his mouth; he wanted to see the dunes when it was warmer. "That would be nice, Nagisa," he replied, putting his chopsticks down in favor of the tea. "Thanks." He chanced a cautious smile, little more than a lift of lips but sincere, and refreshed everyone's tea from the pot on the table.

Conversation drifted for a while, the three of them absorbed in their food. Haruka loved the smooth, mild taste of the eggplant, tasty even though it was somewhat out of season. Come June, fresh ones would be available everywhere. The pumpkin was a winter vegetable and the chunks in the udon were sweet and rich. Late September might be the best time to pair all of this for the cafe. "I'd like to try it in a restaurant again," Haruka mused, poking another bite in his mouth to chew and swallow thoughtfully, "but I think I can make this myself. Do you mind tasting?" he asked Makoto, noticing that his bowl, too, neared empty.

Haruka pulled up his last cluster of noodles, slurping them into his mouth and leaving only a few stray drops of broth and one shiso leaf. "Gochisousama," he said to conclude his meal, laying down the chopsticks as Makoto brought up the Swim Club. "You should come," Haruka added, glad Makoto had gone ahead with the invitation and not left it to him; he didn't think the words would have come out right or at all, not that Nagisa seemed to need them. "It sounds fun. It will be more fun with you there." Considering how his earlier thoughts had focused on wanting to keep swimming as something 'with Makoto' for a while, Haruka didn't immediately understand why the invitation warmed him, why it felt significant...until he realized the mirror had changed, that here he and Makoto were in Rin and Yamazaki's place - fitting together - and Nagisa was in Haru's. Sharing swimming didn't seem wrong in that light.

"Do you live in Tottori?" Haruka realized that anything he knew ten years ago about Nagisa's family he'd forgotten.

 

 

"I'd taste anything you made," Makoto said, without the slightest pause. "You're my favorite cook, after all." And food was what brought them together; there was nothing Makoto wouldn't try if Haru made it with his own beautiful hands.

"Ahh, I want to taste too! I'll have to visit." Nagisa didn't seem to think anything bad of inviting himself along. Anyway, he wasn't going to let either of his friends slip away again. "I do live in the city," he added. "I lived with my parents until last year. There's only so much room there between my sisters and I, so I opted to move. I'm in student housing right now, about 15 minutes from Tottori University, where I'm studying."

"I was going to go to that school too," Makoto said. He'd finished off his lunch, had happily sipped the broth that remained, and was now cradling his tea cup between both of his hands comfortably. "Before I decided to become a fireman, I was set on TU for general education."

"We could have been dormmates!" Nagisa whined, pouting. "That would have been fun!"

Makoto laughed quietly, nodding. "Mm. It would have, Nagisa." _But then I'd never have met Haru_ , he thought, just as Nagisa repeated the words as if Makoto had said them aloud.

"But then you'd never have met Haru-chan."

That familiar flush crept into Makoto's skin as he glanced to Haru. "That's very true."

 

 

Haruka's hands tightened on his own tea, aware when he looked up that his eyes shimmered with a naked fascination akin to his water-reaction, but he was too enthralled to feel self-conscious or embarrassed. Makoto would taste anything he made; the words, given with the sincerity that was _Tachibana Makoto_ , stole his breath away and stoked that hungry fire under his ribs. He mumbled something less than coherent in agreement, not quite trusting himself to form intelligible syllables when his mind was full of only _Makoto_. Nagisa deftly picked up and carried the conversation, and Haruka was thankful, thankful enough to buy him more mochi or bake him copious amounts of sweets or throw out the futon if he wanted to stay a night in Iwatobi sometime. Haruka never had much skill with words and held frank admiration for those around him who could articulate all of those thoughts and feelings inside their heads.

As much as both of them went on at different times today about how amazing a swimmer he was, they each possessed something far, far more impressive than that. They could connect with people and understand them, effortlessly. That was the truly amazing talent in Haruka's eyes.

Makoto blushed and Nagisa grinned, while Haruka looked away, teeth firmly attached to his lower lip. Both of them saying the same embarrassing thing - even though Nagisa said the words, Haruka _felt_ them from Makoto, felt them in the catch in his chest that belonged to the fireman. "I'm..." Haruka began, freezing when their eyes turned to him, chewing double-time on his abused lip. "...glad." Glad that Makoto hadn't gone to Tottori University, glad that he hadn't been Nagisa's dormmate, glad...that he lived across the stairs, close enough to kiss late in the evening and fall asleep on while watching a movie.

All things Haruka knew were written on his face without benefit of words.

"I'll get us some more tea," he said, standing with a scrape of chair against tile and a brisk whisking of the teapot from the table. He had to get distance for just a moment, distance from the reckless pounding of his heart that meant _Makoto_. At the counter, Haruka requested more tea and two of the strawberry daifuku. The chocolate gateau in the case caught his attention, practically tapping on the glass and whispering _Makoto_ in his ear, and he bought a piece of it as well. The mochi went in a bag, leaving his hands free to balance cake and tea back to the table.

He set the cake in front of Makoto first, then handed the bag to Nagisa with a tiny, awkward-but-genuine smile. Everyone's tea got a refill and Haruka added a splash of milk to his, spoon making small clinks as he stirred. "I live by myself," he said, taking a taste from the spoon, "so when you come to see us you could stay with me. Makoto lives very close by," he added, hoping Makoto would take the baton and run the next leg. Haruka's supply of words felt very diminished.

 

 

"Thank you Haru-chan!!!" Nagisa said, peering into the bag with wide eyes that sparkled with admiration. "I owe both of you very much after all this."

"Don't think anything of it," Makoto said, although he felt too that he owed Haru a bit for the cake. Still, he couldn't deny there was just enough room in his stomach to fit it. After all, there was always room for chocolate. "Thank you, Haru." Makoto tucked in almost instantly, smiling around the first bite, because there was really nothing better than the satisfaction of eating something so rich and moist after a salty lunch. "It's delicious!" Although it couldn't hold a candle to the cake Haru had made him, but he'd save that for later, private, discussions.

"Haru-chan would let me stay with him?" Nagisa asked, a little shocked but delighted too. He nodded, enthusiastically. "I'll find a time I'm free, and we can all meet in Iwatobi and have fun. Maybe we can even swim at the club."

"If you come to the Swim Club next month, we'll certainly all swim together."

Nagisa's smile couldn't get any bigger. He held his bag, the scent of strawberry cream calling to him but also reverent in a way that said he meant to try and savor them for once, instead of just swallowing whole in excitement at the sugar rush. They were a gift from Haru-chan, and he'd eat them with care.

After Makoto finished his dessert and they'd had time to go through another pot of tea to warm up, Nagisa exchanged numbers with them, happily texting both immediately with a smiley face before he made his goodbyes. Goodbyes which included a lot of hugs that nearly squished the bag of daifuku he was clutching so dearly. In the end, Nagisa waved at them as he jogged back across the short distance to work, leaving the two of them alone in front of the restaurant.

"That was such a nice surprise," Makoto sighed, glancing down to smile at Haru. "And it was very thoughtful of you to offer him a place to stay in Iwatobi when he visits."

 

 

Haruka flushed almost defiantly, tugging his scarf up over his nose and mouth as they watched Nagisa disappear into the museum. He wouldn't call such a small thing 'thoughtful'. He had space. He had futons. It wasn't troublesome to lay one out and to cook some extra food. Thinking of how Nagisa sucked up lunch and daifuku with the deftness of a vacuum, Haruka revised that to 'a lot of extra food'. Still no trouble. He had cooked much greater quantities in the restaurant before, and Nagisa seemed open to eating, well, most anything. Haruka could even make something like strawberry saba mochi and Nagisa would devour it.

He wasn't sure how to put any of that into words for Makoto, so Haruka shrugged, fairly certain Makoto would understand. "It was good to see him, especially after we mentioned him before." The sun peeked through the January clouds, lending a little sliver of bright to the streets below. "Thank you for inviting him to Iwatobi." The simple appreciation sent more heat into his face and Haruka looked away, tracing a crack in the concrete with the bottom of his shoe as he tried to master his awkwardness. "I feel better now that I've eaten," he said. Haruka's eyes still avoided Makoto, but he knew stating his condition frankly was important after Makoto's careful and discreet managing in the Watanabe. "So we can go on to the crab museum?" Haruka pulled his phone out of his coat pocket, tapping the screen to bring up a map. The glow from it reflected in his eyes, turning them almost silver with light. "We can take a bus over by the airport and then walk from there. It's on the other side of the river from where we are." His scarf had slipped down to show the reticent, hopeful smile kissing his mouth as he held the phone for Makoto to see, gaze no longer turned away. "It's not too much walking, just about half an hour. I can do that," he added, blue eyes languorous, "if Makoto is with me."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO MUCH TIME WITH GOOGLE MAPS TO PLAN OUT THIS DATE. And it's not even done! Coming up next, the crab museum and the trip back home

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! We really didn't mean for this to turn out as long as it did but we regret nothing. Please hit us up on tumblr or twitter.
> 
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